


Runs through my veins

by trinipedia



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, AUBB, Big Bang Challenge, Community: au_bigbang, Fanfiction, J2AU, M/M, Slash, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-08
Updated: 2011-08-08
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/pseuds/trinipedia
Summary: Jensen Ackles is a straight-shooting physical therapist who gets the gig of a lifetime working with his hero, NBA All-Star Jared Padalecki. All is going well until Jensen finds himself falling for Jared while Jared, oblivious to his feelings, is instead drawn to the affections of Jensen's childhood friend Genevieve, who has her sights set on being an NBA trophy wife. Is Jensen destined to play the role of "best friend" forever or will Jared finally see that what he always wanted is right in front of him? In this game, every shot counts.





	1. First Play: Reverse Pivot

**Author's Note:**

> **Amazingly amazing artist:** [](http://onceuponarhi.livejournal.com/profile)[onceuponarhi](http://onceuponarhi.livejournal.com/) [ART MASTERPOST](http://inkruns.livejournal.com/217097.html)
> 
>  **Amazingly amazing beta:** my princess [](http://xanateria.livejournal.com/profile)[xanateria](http://xanateria.livejournal.com/)  
>   
>  **Disclaimers:** Not mine in any way, shape or form. Based on the movie "Just Wright", so if there's anything you think you recognize, I probably didn't write it. Written for the [](http://au-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[au_bigbang](http://au-bigbang.livejournal.com/) challenge.  
>  ****

  
_The reverse pivot, also called "drop step", is a move in which the player posting up takes a back step on the side of a defender behind him and spins to that side to gain leverage._  


  
  
Jensen's day always started the same way. He woke up, got his breakfast and lunch ready and then left for work. That’s when he usually ended up caught in his father's latest repair job.  
  
That morning was no exception: as he tried to open the door, the knob fell off and he had to bodily shove to open it. His father was outside, wearing his old baseball cap and the faded jeans shirt with pride, as he worked on his car. The grey peppering his beard made him look wise, instead of old.  
  
"Dad, promise me one thing," Jensen started, as he crossed the yard. "Anything you don't know how to fix, you'll leave it for a handyman."  
  
The man chuckled, and grabbed the knob that Jensen threw at him. "I got this, son," he replied. "You worry about getting to work on time, yeah?"  
  
Jensen shrugged, then proceeded to fight with his car door. There was a very prominent dent on it, but Jensen pulled harder and it finally gave in. "Have fun tonight on your date," his father shouted, and Jensen rolled his eyes.  
  
"Sure thing, dad," he answered, mockingly, as the engine of his '67 Chevrolet Impala purred to life.  


  
  
"Looking good, man! Improvement. I like it," Jensen said, patting the back of one of his patients. Sometimes his job was hard: having to put people back on their feet meant a big responsibility on his shoulders, and the few times it didn't work out still stung, but to see the joy on a kid's face as he took his first steps out of a wheelchair, or the wide smile of an old man who thought he was never going to be able to eat on his own again, well. Those moments made everything worthwhile.  
  
"Keep your elbows up," he corrected a woman lifting weights, then proceeded to take off one plate from another patient's machine. Everyone was working hard, panting and sweating, but they all had a friendly smile for him. That gratitude, those gazes made Jensen love his job more than anything else.  
  
"Hey, Jen."  
  
Jensen turned, and saw his best friend Mike walking up to him with a wide smirk that made him cringe.  
  
"What time is the blind date?" Mike asked, wriggling his eyebrows.  
  
"Not like is any of your business, but eight," he muttered.  
  
Mike poked his side. "What are you gonna wear? Please, don't say the black shirt."  
  
Jensen's gaze shifted, and Mike glared at him. "Come on, Jensen," he exclaimed, slapping his arm. "How do you expect to get laid if you don’t make yourself look good?"  
Jensen gaped at him for a moment, then he closed his mouth and gave up trying to explain to Mike that he didn't intend to change, especially blind date. Whoever met, would have to like the real Jensen, not a fake he created to impress. How was he supposed to keep it up afterwards? Mike realized he was not going to get an answer, so he just huffed and walked away, muttering something like _sucks to be you_.  


  
  
As he entered the bar, Jensen's gaze shifted nervously from one side to the other.  
He had absolutely no idea what his blind date was supposed to look like. He approached the counter, for a drink, when he saw an angel. Lean, with blue, intense eyes and dark hair, mussed artistically to give a just out of bed look that was as sexy as hell. The mouth alone was a thing of beauty. He swallowed hard, hoped he wasn’t not drooling, and stepped closer, tapping the broad shoulder.  
  
"Misha?" he inquired, hesitantly, and the guy's face lightened up.  
  
"Are you Jensen? It's so nice to meet you."  
  
Jensen looked away, then shook hands. God, even the guy's hands were pretty. "Yeah, you too," he muttered.  
  
Misha motioned towards the restaurant. "Shall we? I have a reservation for us."  
  
Jensen nodded dumbly and followed him, as he murmured a thank you to whoever was there to listen.  


  
  
"A little more wine?" Misha asked, already pouring it, and Jensen chuckled.  
  
"You trying to get me drunk so you can seduce me?"  
  
Misha's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Would it work?"  
  
Jensen choke on the wine, but didn't reply. Once he had settled down, he tried to change the topic. "So, what about kids? You want 'em?"  
  
Misha shrugged. "Of course I do," he replied. "As many as we can have. At least two or three."  
  
Jensen blinked. "Wow. That's pretty...different from what I've heard from most gay men."  
  
Misha laughed. "Yeah, different. That's one of the nicest words ever used to describe me," he confessed, and Jensen laughed too.  
  
"You really mean that? Even with all those hours you work?" Jensen inquired further, but Misha just smiled.  
  
"Absolutely. Besides, you have a pretty demanding career as well, don't you? I mean, physical therapy. Must be hard."  
  
"It is" Jensen agreed, smiling back. "But I don't regret a single moment, and at the end of the day isn't that what life's about?"  
  
Just then, the waiter came by with their desserts. Misha took a forkful and leaned towards Jensen with it, but Jensen pulled back. "No way," he said. "Everybody I know who has tried tiramisu got hooked on it. I don't want to be the next junkie in line."  
  
Misha turned his most seductive smile towards him. "You know what? I'm your pusher, tonight. Come on, open up."  
  
The tone and the way Misha's gravely voice curled around the words made any resolution Jensen had crumble, and he opened his mouth and accepted the cake Misha was offering.  
  
He let out a little whimpering sound and closed his eyes. "That is _delicious_."  
  
Sparks were flying around them, and as Jensen licked his lips Misha's gaze followed the movement hungrily. He told himself he was not going to have sex after the first date, but it had been so long since the last time he got laid and Misha was...  
He cleared his throat. "We need some more dessert wine to wash this down," he said, a little hoarsely, as Misha leaned in with his fork again.  
  
"You want me to keep feeding you?" he purred.  
  
"We can do this all night."  
  
Jensen could feel his dick twitch and had to use all the control he could master to stop himself from asking Misha to feed him something else. _Good things come to those who wait_ , he told himself, nodding at something Misha said even if he had no idea what it actually was.  


  
  
"I had such a great time tonight," Misha said, as they walked out of the restaurant.  
  
"Me too," Jensen echoed. "Maybe next time we could catch a movie or, better yet, a Spurs game."  
  
Misha blinked. "You are amazing," he stated, awe plain in this tone. "I'm serious! I mean, any man that gets you is gonna be beyond lucky."  
  
Jensen had been patient but he wasn’t in the mood to listen to rambling. "Misha..." he started, frowning, but the other man shook his head.  
  
"No, Jensen, listen. I'm just out of a very long relationship, okay? My feelings are still kind of raw. Don't get me wrong, I'm _so_ turned on by you right now, but-"  
"You're not emotionally ready," Jensen finished for him, and Misha nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"I'm so happy you get it," he exclaimed, smiling.  
  
"See, that's what I'm talking about, you...you're the bomb.com, man."  
Then, he took a step closer. "So yeah, a relationship is out of the question, but we can still...you know, _hang out_. My place is a few blocks from here, and you're-you're hot, Jensen, you gotta know that."  
  
Jensen clenched his jaw, and suddenly couldn't remember why he had been attracted to Misha in the first place. "I'm hot enough to fuck through your mattress, but I'm not hot enough to build something with," he snapped, as the sensation of being objectified made it hard to breathe. "You do realize my ass comes as a packaged deal with my brains and my heart, right, Misha? You do realize that my cock-sucking lips have feelings too, right?"  
  
Misha looked taken aback. "I didn't mean it like that, Jensen," he protested.  
"I'm sorry, I'm just-"  
  
"You're just another asshole," Jensen hissed, before he walked away, ignoring Misha's voice calling him.  


  
  
When he got home, the lights were still on, and he cringed inwardly, at the thought of questions about his most recent failure. Instead of his dad, he found his childhood best friend, Genevieve, sitting in the living room and waiting for him.  
  
"How was the date?" she asked excitedly. "Was he cute?"  
  
"Yep," Jensen relied, taking off his shoes. "And he thought I made the perfect homeboy. He would have been more than happy to screw me all night, but not really interested in calling the day after, if you catch my drift."  
  
Genevieve gasped. "Again?" Jensen shrugged, and she sat up, while he dropped on the couch. "I'm sorry, honey," she said, "but you do have homeboy written all over you."  
Jensen blinked. "What? I'm just being my regular self, Gen," he protested, and she rolled her eyes.  
  
"Exactly. You’re not supposed to show your regular self until you've been together for at least five years. That's the first rule for a lasting relationship."  
  
Jensen just stared at her for a while, then shook his head. "What’s all this?" he asked then, pointing at the books and magazines scattered all over the living room.  
  
Genevieve smirked. "Research," she explained. "I was reading _The power of now_ and it dawned on me: a girl doesn't just become the wife of an NBA franchise player by accident. It takes strategy, good intel and vision."  
She showed him a collage she made, and Jensen snorted. "I'm sure that's what Eckhart Tolle thought when he wrote that book," he mocked her, and Genevieve pouted.  
  
"Say what you want, but don't be hating on your girl when she's a brand," she retorted, petulantly, making Jensen frown.  
  
"Gen, what the hell are you talking about now?"  
  
She looked at him with that expression of hers that said _I don't know why I even bother taking to you_. "Every woman who married an NBA player created a brand" she explained, annoyed. "One's got a fragrance, the other has a clothing line coming out. I'm almost 30, Jensen. I got to start thinking about my future, like, now."  
  
Jensen arched an eyebrow. "You really scare me sometimes," he said, standing up.  
"You've been crashing in my guest room for the last, what? two or three years? You never paid the rent, your BMW got repossessed 'cause you stopped making the payments. Does any of this research of yours involve you getting a job and growing the hell up?"  
  
Genevieve narrowed her eyes. "This _is_ my job, Jensen," she snapped.  
"Have you been listening at all?"  
  
Jensen just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I'm going to bed," he said, tiredly.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow for the game, if you're not too busy planning your First Lady future to roll with me."  
  
Genevieve perked up. "Of course I'll go" she replied "I'm already working on my outfit. It takes good bait to catch a fish, you know."  
  
"I see," Jensen muttered to himself as he climbed the stairs to his room. "I must be fishing in the wrong river."  


  
  
Jensen's mother sighed, when she saw him walking down the hallway wearing a large Spurs t-shirt and sweatpants. "How are you gonna get someone to notice you dressed like that?" she whined, but Jensen just rolled his eyes.  
  
"I'm going to the game, mama," he reminded her. "Everyone who's gonna be there will be watching the basketball players, not me."  
  
"I bet," she muttered. Jensen grumbled, but let it go.  
  
"Where's dad?" he inquired, and his mother sighed again.  
  
"In the kitchen, working on another one of his projects."  
  
Jensen huffed. "Didn't we tell him already-" he stopped mid-sentence when he saw  
Genevieve walking through the door. She was wearing heels so high Jensen felt unbalanced just by looking at them, and the short, white, sleeveless dress she was wearing underlined everything a dress was supposed to hide. She had even curled her hair and applied make up. A lot of make up.  
  
"This is how you get a man," his mother said, staring at her in adoration.  
  
"I told him to dress up," Genevieve stated, and Jensen glared.  
  
"We are going to a basketball game, Gen. There's gonna be beer, melted cheese and hot dogs. Do you have any idea what that dress will look like once you're done eating?"  
  
Genevieve's eyes went wide. "Eat?" she repeated in a high-pitched voice, and Jensen just shook his head and headed out.  


  
  
It was the fourth quarter of the season opener at the AT &T Center, and the Spurs were up by 10 over the Orlando Magic, thanks much to the tremendous effort by star point guard Jared Padalecki. Padalecki was one of the best point guards in the league, and he was definitely living up to that reputation that night. He dribbled left and looked inside, but there was no one there to pass the ball to; that's when he decided he was gonna take it himself, so he passed it behind his back and put it up.  
The play was absolutely spectacular, and the whole stadium stood up and clapped.  
  
"Code blue, code blue," Jensen shouted. "Get a crash cart in here, we’re losing the patient."  
  
Genevieve shushed him, as she pointer her binoculars towards the field where Jared Padalecki was about to shoot his free throw. Padalecki had shot eighty-nine percent from the free throw line the previous season, but that night he had gone beyond that, with a stunning one hundred percent. Everyone went silent as the player took a deep breath, but when the ball dropped in the net the cheers were deafening.  
  
"He's done it," Jensen exclaimed, standing up and clapping like crazy. "That's eleven in a row."  
  
Genevieve turned her gaze on him and whistled, before focusing on the other side of the stadium. "Wow, look at that," she said, pointing. "I love the players' wives section: the most exclusive three rows in any arena. God, look at that bag. It's the new Domenico Vacca. Nobody's got that yet."  
  
Jensen rolled his eyes, and tried to tune her incessant babbling out as he followed the game. Jared was surrounded by defenders, and his hazel eyes were shifting quickly from side to side, trying to find a way out.  
  
"Padalecki's not gonna make that shot," a man sat behind Jensen commented.  
  
Jensen turned to smirk at him. "Oh, yes he is."  
  
Jared moved to his right, finally managing to dribble a couple of defenders and shoot long distance.  
  
"Go Jared!" he exclaimed, standing up, and the guy behind him protested, but Jensen didn't give a damn.  
  
"Shut up, dude," another Orlando fan growled, but Jensen's grin just got wider.  
  
"I would, but I'm getting a phone call: it's President Obama. He suggests you invest some money on defense."  
  
Genevieve grabbed his arm and pulled him down, but Jensen was still snickering to himself. He loved basketball. Meanwhile, on the field, a cross-court pass was stolen by Jared Padalecki, as the player was coming the other way; he laid it up and in, granting an even bigger advantage to his team. The Spurs were already up by a bundle. The Orlando Magic knew they were in trouble so they tried to bring it up the floor, but Jared stole the ball once again, slamming it home with a fabulous jump.  
  
There was only time for one more action for the Orlando Magic: Dwight Howard, clearly upset, inbounded the ball to Rashard Lewis, who tried a three pointers, but failed. The rebounding ball ended up in Jared Padalecki's hands, as the clock wound down crowning the Spurs as the winners of the game.  
  
"Time of death, 10:19," Jensen exclaimed, and the Orlando fans groaned. "I don't even know why you bother" he added. "We shut y'all down every single time."  
  
"Was a great game," Genevieve said, and Jensen nodded emphatically.  
  
"Padalecki's performance was unbelievable," he pointed out, and Genevieve licked her lips as she looked at him jogging back to the locker room.  
  
"I'll say," she agreed.  


  
  
"Almost a decade with the Spurs, the only franchise you've ever played for, but you're a free agent at the end of this season," the interviewer said, as Jared tried to catch his breath. "The question everyone wants to know is: will Jared Padalecki re-sign with the Spurs?"  
  
Jared's smile got so wide that his dimples appeared. "I prove myself night in and night out on that court," he explained. "Spurs fans know what I'm worth. Hopefully, the Spurs front office knows it, too."  
  
The interviewer arched an eyebrow. "So what you're saying is..."  
  
"What I'm saying is that it's good to see you, man," Jared interrupted him, clasping the interviewer's shoulder and winking at him.  
He looked like he wanted to inquire further, but then decided against it and just offered his hand to Jared.  
  
"For sure," he said. "And congratulations, Jay."  
  
As Jared was walking back to the locker room, a lanky guy with blonde hair and squinty blue eyes tackled him. "That was great, man! I think you just started a bidding war," he informed him, beaming.  
  
Jared frowned. "I don't want a bidding war, Chad. You know I wanna stay with the Spurs, right? Black, silver and white-"  
  
" _Runs through my veins_. Yeah, I know, Jared. You've been saying that since the day they drafted you," Chad retorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Well, it's the truth" Jared concluded, shrugging. "As my manager, make it happen, Chad. Please."  


  
  
"There you are, girl. I've been looking everywhere for you," a beautiful, skinny girl with wavy brown hair and cold blue eyes walked up to them as Jensen and Genevieve approached the exit of the stadium, followed by a few more who immediately started to talk to Genevieve all at the same time.  
  
Jensen cleared his throat, and they stopped, turning sheepishly towards him.  
"Hi, Jensen" the brown- haired girl greeted him with a pretty forced smile.  
  
"Hey, Lauren, what's up?" Jensen replied, as another girl tried to make small talk.  
"It's really packed in here..."  
  
"Cut the crap, Sandy, what is it?" Jensen snapped and the tiny brunette flinched.  
"Jared Padalecki is having a birthday party Saturday night at his house" Lauren explained, glaring at Jensen, who ignored her.  
  
"I know y'all trying to be up in the spot, girls, but-"  
  
"Jensen, be nice to my friends" Genevieve hissed, before turning and grinning at Lauren. "You got the hook-up?" she asked, eagerly, and Lauren smirked.  
  
"My girl Katie does," she said, and Genevieve let out a small squeal.  
  
"We're going to meet her at the Warwick Hotel, you want to roll with us?" Genevieve bit his lower lip, turning towards Jensen. "You don't mind, do you?" she said in a pleading tone, and Jensen was tempted to say that yes, he did mind since he had paid for the tickets, the gas and probably even the dress she was wearing, but in the end he sighed and shook his head.  
  
"Nah, do your thing," he added, for good measure. The satisfaction of denying her was not worth the hour and a half of painful whining he'd have had to endure, anyway.  
  
"I'll have them drop me off" Genevieve said, before fleeing the stadium with her friends. Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't sure of what would have been worse, for her to actually manage to catch an NBA player and repeating _I told you so_ forever and ever, or for her to fail, and having to take care of her for the rest of his life.  
  
Choices, choices.  


  
  
As Jensen was gassing his car at the last station before the highway, a huge black SUV drove by, stopping at the other pump. "If we gonna have a charity, I need to be around the kids more, that's the whole point," a familiar voice was saying, probably on the phone since Jensen couldn't hear a reply.  
  
After a short pause, the guy driving the SUV went on. "I know, Chad, but I want to talk to the kids, be in their faces. I need to see what they're thinking, don't you get it? That's what it's always been about for me." The door opened, and the longest legs Jensen had ever seen came out, followed by inches of perfectly built muscles straining to be contained in a tailored suit.  
  
Jared fucking Padalecki. Jensen gasped, loud, then covered his mouth and hoped Jared didn't hear him, but he simply kept talking to the person on the other side of the phone, presumably his manager, Chad Michael Murray.  
  
"Well, what else should it be for, Chad? Come on, you're not serious." He looked pretty irked, then he started to circle his car with a frown on his usually cheerful face.  
  
"I can't find where to put gas in this thing, man," he complained, sounding like a five year old.  
  
"This is getting ridiculous." And it was. Jensen took pity on him and approached the SUV as Jared told his manager to call his mama, since it was her who ran the charity.  
  
When Jared saw him, his eyebrows went up to his hairline. "Excuse me, who are-"  
  
"Jensen" Jensen supplied, walking straight to the right side of the car "Jensen Ackles."  
  
"Let me call you back" Jared muttered in his phone before hanging up. "So, uh, Jensen, what are you..."  
  
Jensen grinned at him. "These cars usually have a button that opens the tank," he explained, as he touched a corner. With a low buzzing sound, the tank opened. "There you go," Jensen said, "but you might want to spin the car around."  
  
Jared blinked, but his expression slowly relaxed. "Okay, Jensen Ackles," he replied, with a smile.  
  
Jensen sniffed at the car paint, unable to resist. He loved cars almost as much as he loved basketball. "Smells like it's fresh off the assembly line," he pointed out. "You just got it, didn't you?"  
  
Jared scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah," he admitted, sheepishly. "Thanks a lot, man, I really appreciate it."  
  
Jensen smirked. "Well, you can thank me by winning the championship," he joked.  
  
"Wow, are you a die-hard?" Jared asked, whistling, and Jensen nodded.  
  
"Black, silver and white runs through my veins, man."  
  
Jared chuckled. "Now you sound like me."  
  
"I'm a Texas guy at heart" Jensen exclaimed, shrugging. "Gotta represent."  
  
They stared at each other for a long instant, until Jared blinked and stepped back.  
"Alright, then. I should probably go."  
  
Jensen bit his lower lip. "I shouldn't," he muttered, and Jared turned to look at him. "What is it? What were you gonna say?" he inquired, curiously.  
  
Jensen snorted. "I'm sorry, I'm a little nosy and forgive me but-is that a Joni Mitchell CD on your seat?"  
  
Jared's eyes went wide and for a moment Jensen thought he was going to come up with some lame excuse like _it's not mine_ , but then he chuckled again.  
  
Jensen really liked that sound.  
  
"Okay, fine, you caught me," Jared admitted, lifting both his hands. "I like Joni Mitchell. Actually, I really love jazz. That's my thing."  
  
"You don't say," Jensen replied, pleasantly surprised, then he snapped his fingers.  
"You know that song Joni Mitchell did with Charles Mingus? _Sweet Sucker Dance_?"  
  
Jared's smile softened. "I love that one," he said, and Jensen smiled back.  
"One of my favorite songs ever."  
  
Jared was stepping away from his car again, but then his phone vibrated and he looked at Jensen apologetically.  
  
"I gotta get home anyway," Jensen reassured him. "Have a good night." He started to fight with his car door, and Jared snorted.  
  
"You know what? Let _me_ get your door" he offered, half-mockingly, as he walked up to the Impala.  
Jensen grinned. "I never figured you for the opening door type, mister Padalecki" he joked.  
  
"Come on!" Jared exclaimed, pretending to be offended. "I open doors, I offer my coat, I pull chairs out..." As he was talking, he had grabbed the car door's handle and pulled, but it didn't open. "Well, at least I try to open doors. What's up with this?"  
  
"Just lift it and pull," Jensen instructed him, laughing, and clapped when Jared finally got the gist of it.  
  
"My baby is kind of old," he said.  
  
"I can see that," Jared retorted, still smiling.  
  
Jensen had already turned on the engine and was this close to start giggling like a Justin Bieber fangirl when Jared tapped lightly on the roof of Jensen's car. "You got plans for Saturday night?" he asked, and Jensen's eyes went wide.  


  
  
He didn't get to meet Genevieve until mid-morning, when she finally came back.  
She stumbled inside the kitchen, where Jensen was painting the wall, looking like death warmed over, and offered him a small, apologetic smile. "I did not expect to be out all night," she explained. "After the Warwick we got invited to this after-hours where Q-Tip was DJ-ing. Then we went to this breakfast spot, but as you know I don't eat in public, so I am starving."  
  
Jensen snickered inwardly, as he kept painting, his back turned, until he couldn't keep it bottled up anymore and he sat across from Genevieve at the kitchen table.  
"So, you and your girl make any progress getting into Jared Padalecki's party?" he inquired, feigning interest.  
  
Genevieve groaned. "I wish," she replied. "The way things are going, on Saturday night I'll be right here with you, putting on a second coat."  
  
Jensen sighed. "That's too bad," he said, and Genevieve arched an eyebrow.  
  
"Too bad?"  
  
Jensen grinned. "If you're at this house, then you won't be at _his_ house."  
He turned the screen of his cellphone towards her, where she could see Jared's name.  
  
Genevieve gasped. "Is this..."  
  
"Yes it is," Jensen exclaimed, beaming at her. "We're going to Jared Padalecki's party. I got the hook-up."  
  
"How?" Genevieve demanded, bouncing on her chair.  
  
"Jared _personally_ invited me" Jensen revealed, and Genevieve frowned.  
  
"Since when do you know Jared Padalecki?"  
  
"Since last night at the gas station" Jensen explained. "First of all, he's on the phone, beefing with that agent of his about this charity event and how they better get it right for the kids. Meanwhile, he's so distracted that he can't even open the gas tank, until I hooked him up."  
  
Genevieve was gaping, but she flailed her hands in the air to get Jensen to keep going.  
  
"What was he like?"  
  
Jensen shrugged. "I don't know, Gen," he said, pondering. "I mean, look, he was different than I thought he would be, that's for sure. He was...he was cool, you know? He was nice, even _beyond_ nice. I mean, like a real sweetie-pie from the South." He was also the hottest guy Jensen had ever seen up close, but he was so not going to go there.  
  
Which is why he was completely unprepared for Genevieve's following question. "You're not...feeling this dude, are you, Jensen?"  
  
He blinked. "Wha-girl, you crazy," Jensen answered, maybe a tad too quickly. "I don't do ball players: even if they are gay, they're probably so deep in their closet that it would be easier for them to get to Narnia than to come out, and I'm done with those." He shook his head for good measure. "I like regular guys," he added, after a handful of seconds.  
  
His words sounded so fake to his own ears that he expected for her to call him out on it, but instead she just changed topics, starting to fuss about the perfect outfit.  
"You're the best," she shouted, as she ran out to go to the mall.  


  
  
Finally, it was Saturday night, and they were all dressed up. Genevieve looked stunning, and Jensen had for once let her and his mama convince him to wear something else than black. The burgundy shirt he had on really made his eyes pop, and the pants made his butt look fantastic, if he could take Genevieve's word for it.  
  
In front of the house, Jensen's dad was polishing his Buick. "It's all about the law of attraction," Genevieve was explaining as they walked across the yard.  
  
"I'm all for that," Jensen muttered, but was distracted from his musing by his dad throwing something at him. They were the keys to his car. "The Deuce and a Quarter?" Jensen asked, wide eyed.  
  
"Not only princesses need a chariot," the man replied with a shrug.  
  
Genevieve beamed at him. "Thank you so much, Jim," she said. "I really didn't want to go in that trap Jensen calls a car."  
  
"You are _so_ fly, dad," Jensen told him, ignoring Genevieve's comment, and his father chuckled.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the man," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just watch the potholes and don't break too many hearts, okay?"  
  
"Maybe one or two," Jensen answered, winking at him. _As long as it's not my heart that gets broken_ , he thought.  


  
  
The party was in full swing by the time they got there. Just looking at the parked cars and at the clothes the rest of the guests were wearing made Jensen feel more out of place than he had ever felt before, so he tried to concentrate on the Jared he had met a few days before, the simple, easygoing, kind-hearted guy Jensen created a connection with from the get go.  
  
Genevieve was wearing a short, pink dress, with a deep cut on the front showing off her cleavage, and a fake, sweet smile she offered to whoever they walked past.  
As they entered the living room, they heard a loud voice proposing a toast. "To the birthday boy, " Chad was shouting, and everyone clapped.  
  
I'm sure you've all heard this before: people become rich and famous and they change," he went on. "The point is, I can tell you all first-hand that more often than not, that notion is true. But then there's this guy, right here, who's not only the best friend anyone can hope for, but he's also the same person he was back in high school, minus the Cross Colors and the Gumby."  
  
The guests laughed, and Jared blushed, elbowing Chad. "Anyway," Chad continued once the room had settled down again, "he's a true gentleman, on and off the court. To my one and only client...happy birthday, Jaybird!"  
  
"To the Spurs, baby," Jared shouted, and everyone cheered.  
  
"I'm gonna go explore" Genevieve whispered.  
  
Jensen shrugged. "Sure, I'll meet you at that other bar."  


  
  
Just as he was getting his first glass of champagne, someone tapped his shoulder.  
"Jensen Ackles," Jared greeted him with a friendly smile, pulling him in and hugging him so tight Jensen felt a couple of ribs crack. "I'm happy to see you made it."  
  
"Thanks for inviting me man," he replied as soon as Jared let him go. "Happy birthday." He offered him a small envelope. "I got you a card" he explained when Jared arched an eyebrow. "Didn't want to come empty-handed, and I didn't think you'd need flowers or a bottle of wine."  
Jared chuckled. "Thanks a lot," he said, then he assessed Jensen and whistled.  
"Damn, dude, you look great. You trying to shadow me at my own party?" he exclaimed, jokingly, but Jensen knew what he had seen. Jared was checking him out.  
  
"Come on, Jared, you know you don't look too shabby yourself," he retorted, and he had the pleasure of seeing Jared blush again.  
  
"I appreciate it," he muttered, and Jensen desperately tried to find a different topic.  
"Your house is just-so beautiful."  
  
Jared looked pretty relieved. "I'm glad you think so, and I wish I could take the credit for it, but I had a lot of help," he admitted, sheepishly.  
  
"If it was up to me, though, there'd be futons and flat screens in every room."  
  
Jensen laughed. "Well, it's a palace compared to my place; I just bought this fixer-upper and my father, Jim, is helping me out, but he's not quite the handyman he thinks he is." He wriggled his eyebrows for good measure, making Jared laugh once more.  
  
Jared was leaning towards him, probably to say something else, when Genevieve appeared, rushing to Jensen's side.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Jensen, but I can't stay," she said.  
  
"What?" Jensen inquired, confused.  
  
"I just got a call from Safe Horizon: they need me" she explained, and Jensen frowned. What the hell was she trying to pull?  
  
Jared's attention was all focused on her, though. "This is Genevieve, my god sister," he introduced her. "We grew up together."  
  
"It's Gen. And nice to meet you," she greeted Jared, offering him her small, manicured hand that got engulfed in one of his enormous paws.  
  
Jensen felt a pang of jealousy in the middle of his chest, and couldn't help thinking that Genevieve would have never fit in Jared's arms like Jensen did. _Jesus, man, stop this right now!_ he told himself. Jared was obviously straight, and even more obviously he was completely enchanted by the girl Genevieve was pretending to be.  
  
"You can't leave the party. It just got started" Jared was protesting, still keeping Genevieve's hand in his.  
  
"I have to," she said, with an apologetic glance. "One of the volunteers at the homeless shelter I help out at just called in sick, so it's urgent."  
  
Jensen was so disgusted by the display that when Genevieve grabbed his arm he pulled away."Bartender, can I trade this champagne for a Hennessy? Double?" he asked in a growl, doing his best to ignore Genevieve and her pathetic little show.  
She was a hell of an actress, though, because Jared leaned towards her.  
  
"I volunteer at different spots myself," he said "I wish I had more time to do it, though, you know?"  
  
Genevieve smiled at him, before turning towards Jensen. "I got to stop back at the house and get some games for the kids, okay?" she said, and Jared arched an eyebrow.  
  
"So you two live together?" he inquired, and Jensen made a face.  
"Temporarily," he replied.  
  
“It's a long story," Genevieve said.  
  
Jared fidgeted. "Are you...I mean..."  
  
Genevieve's eyes went wide, then she arched her head back and laughed.  
"An item? Oh, no, Jenny here has never even looked at me" she said, with a playful glint in her eyes, and Jensen flinched.  
  
He didn't want Jared to find out this way. "Actually" she was going on "you oughta know that he-"  
"She's not my type. Like, at all" Jensen interrupted her, throwing her a killer glance and hoping he was not blushing. It was not a lie, technically speaking.  
  
Luckily, she apparently got it, because she just shrugged and dropped it. Jared didn't seem to notice anything weird about their exchange, anyway. He seemed more...relieved?  
  
"How can I get in touch with you?" he asked, and that's when Jensen got it. He was happy to know Genevieve was available.  
  
Genevieve sighed. "Oh, Jared...it's Jared, right? I'm sorry. I tried the whole dating-a-ball-player thing, and it's not for me." Jensen rolled his eyes and managed not to slap her. "It was really nice talking to you though," Genevieve concluded, patting Jared's arm and disappearing in the crowd.  
  
"Come on, Jensen," she shouted at him, and Jensen clenched his jaw.  
  
"Thank you for inviting me," he said through gritted teeth, offering Jared a little smile, even if he could feel that it didn't reach his eyes.  
"Enjoy your birthday."  


  
  
"You know, the objective is not to make them leave," Chad pointed out, slapping Jared's shoulder as he looked at Genevieve and Jensen disappearing into the night.  
"How did you mess that up?"  
  
Jared shrugged. "I didn’t mess anything up," he retorted. "And if I did, I intend to fix it. As soon as I can."  


  
  
"What the fuck was that?" Jensen snapped as soon as they were out of the house.  
  
"I know what it looks like," Genevieve said, soothingly. "But I'll so make it up to you. Now tell me: was he looking at me when I walked away?"  
  
Jensen glared at her. "Was it really necessary to lie to him that way? A volunteer from a shelter?"  
  
Genevieve pulled her hair back. "Well, you said he was different" she explained "so I gave him different."  
  
"By pretending to be the girl next door you've never been?"  
  
Genevieve grinned. "The girl that'll be living in this big-ass house sooner thank you think. I'm bagging this one, Jensen, I can feel it."  
  
"And I wish I could feel happy for you," Jensen muttered, before a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute, you didn't even give him your number when he asked you for it," he pointed out, and Genevieve pulled out that annoyed expression again.  
  
"Yeah, which is probably the first time a woman's done that to him since he got to the NBA."  
  
Jensen gaped at her, as she smirked. "Trust me, I'll be hearing from him."  
  
Jensen hoped with all his heart that she was wrong.  


  
  
When Jensen got up on Sunday morning, he found his dad already up, working on the windows in the living room. He had insisted on getting lighter frames, and now that he could see the finished result, Jensen had to admit he was right. "It does make a huge difference," he admitted, and his father beamed at him.  
  
"Just trust me on this," he replied. "I got you, son. How was last night?"  
  
Jensen's back stiffened, and his father rubbed his hands together. "I knew it," he exclaimed. "Your prince saw you and bam! He hit the-"  
  
"And then he saw Gen and forgot I was even there," Jensen interrupted him, bitterly. "But hey, I'm used to it. I mean, why wouldn't he? She is beautiful, smart..."  
  
"A girl," his father added.  
  
Jensen sighed. "Yeah. That too."  
  
His father walked up to him and wrapped an arm around Jensen's shoulders.  
"You're beautiful too, Jensen. And someone at some point will have the guts to take a stand and walk beside you."  
  
Jensen lowered his head. "At some point," he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse.  
  
"It will happen," his father insisted. "You just got to give it time, son."  
  
Jensen narrowed his eyes. "When, dad? When is it gonna happen? I'm almost thirty-five years old. When am I supposed to meet this one amazing guy who thinks I'm the only thing he can't live without?"  
  
His father smiled softly at him, without releasing his hold. "He's out there, I know it" he murmured.  
  
Jensen shrugged. "Okay, well. When you find him, tell him I'm at work," he concluded, stepping away and out of the house.  


  
  
"So you _do_ live here," Jared greeted him, right outside of his porch, and  
Jensen jumped in surprise. "I was afraid I might have the wrong house." In the sunlight, the guy looked even more gorgeous. His hair swaying in the breeze, the light pink shirt under the burgundy jacket, the stubble on his cheeks and his honey-colored skin. Jared was a dream come to life.  
  
Jensen swallowed, hard, and took the last few steps towards him. "This is called stalking, you know," he pointed out, jokingly. "How'd you know I live here?"  
  
"I know people," Jared replied, with a smirk.  
  
Before Jensen could investigate any further, his father came out and saw him.  
"Holy hell, Jared Padalecki," he exclaimed, with his eyes wide.  
  
Jared offered him his hand to shake, and the man shook it enthusiastically.  
Maybe even a little too much. "This is my dad, Jim," Jensen said, pulling forcefully his dad's hand away from Jared's.  
"  
What are you doing here?" his father asked, and Jensen braced for the reply.  
"I-I was just hoping to see Genevieve," Jared answered, sheepishly, and the smile on Jensen's father dimmed a little.  
  
"Don't just stand there, come on in," Jensen invited him, trying with all his might to stomp on whatever was going on in his chest and be the friend Jared obviously expected him to be.  


  
  
"Gen! Come on down." Jensen called, once they were inside. "Sorry for the mess, I told you I was fixing the place," he added to Jared, who chuckled when he tried to close the door and the knob fell in his hand.  
  
"What?" Genevieve roared from her room.  
  
"You have a _visitor_ " Jensen replied, trying to put all the emphasis he possibly could on the word, and hoping she'd catch the drift.  
  
He could hear the _thump_ as she rolled out of bed, and from the way her voice completely changed when she chirped _coming,_ he assumed she was okay.  
  
"This is a nice house," Jared was said, as Jensen's father took the plastic off the couch.  
  
"Well, thank you," Jensen answered. "Sorry for the smell of painting."  
  
They all milled awkwardly in the living room until Jensen's father remembered he had to go to Home Depot. "Get a W tonight," he said before leaving, and Jared nodded, smiling.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Jensen pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
"I should go get Genevieve for you" he pointed out, but before he could climb up the stairs Jared stopped him.  
  
"Stay," he said. "She knows I'm here, give her the time she needs."  
  
Jensen shrugged and walked back in the living room, where Jared was skimming through a few books on the coffee table. "What do you do? I mean, for a living," Jared asked, and Jensen relaxed slightly at the familiar topic.  
  
"I am the chief physical therapist at a rehabilitation center," he explained.  
  
"Wow," Jared said, looking impressed. "You must be good."  
  
Jensen grinned. "I guess so, I've been doing it twelve years. I could do it in my sleep." That _something_ between them was crackling again, and Jensen stepped closer to Jared, without even noticing, as his voice went lower. "I also like to stay up on the latest techniques, though, so I have the books."  
  
Jared nodded, and moved away from the coffee table. "Very cool," he said, equally low ."You are _very_ cool, Jensen." Jensen swallowed again, but before he could say anything else Genevieve appeared, and Jared's attention shifted completely.  
  
"Jared Padalecki?" Genevieve said, faking surprise. "What are you doing here?"  
Jared cleared his throat.  
  
"I know I only talked to you for a couple of minutes at the party, but...I just had to see you again." Genevieve let out a low giggle and Jensen had about enough.  
  
"I'm headed to work, I'm late" he stated, probably a little too forcefully, and Genevieve smiled sweetly.  
"Okay."  
Jensen rolled his eyes, then waved at Jared.  
"Was nice seeing you" he said, and Jared muttered _you too_ , but he didn't even register Jensen's presence anymore.  


  
  
"I have an away game tonight, but I'll be back tomorrow," Jared was saying as Jensen closed the door. "Have dinner with me?"  
  
"It's like I told you at the party, Jared," Genevieve protested "I've done this before-"  
  
"But not with me," Jared interrupted her.  
  
"You don't even know me," she pointed out, and Jared nodded.  
  
"I want to know you."  
  
"And I don't know you," she insisted, crossing her arms on her chest.  
  
"But Jensen does!" Jared exclaimed. "He'll vouch for me. I'm a perfect gentleman."  
  
Genevieve licked her lips, then curled a lock of hair behind her ear and decided it was the right moment to cave. "Just dinner?" she asked in a perfect, slightly hesitant and coy tone.  
  
Jared beamed at her, and she knew he had him in the bag. "Just dinner."  



	2. Second Play: Double Clutch

  
_A double clutch is a change of ball position in mid-air (performed while the player is in the air). It is effectively used by many players, especially those who are more athletic._

The months flew by. Jared and Genevieve became an inseparable couple; she went to all of his games, and during every meeting with his friends she was there, laughing, touching and having her pictures taken. The Spurs kept on winning, and Genevieve got to sit in one of the three most exclusive rows of every arena.

Meanwhile, Jensen had thrown himself in work, doing his best not to think about Jared, Genevieve or their castle built on lies. Unfortunately, it proved harder than he thought, considering that Genevieve did all she could to get on every possible magazine, tabloid or newspaper around. The bright side of it was that she was now spending almost all of her time at Jared's place, so Jensen didn't have to deal with her at the house, at least.

He didn't think he could handle her smug expression as she said _I told you so_.  
Besides, she did lie to him, but Jared fell for it, and if he had been enough of a tool not to see behind Genevieve's carefully built façade, then he deserved to be fooled.  
And he couldn't be really mad at Genevieve, either: she did ask him if he had feelings for Jared, and he said no. Sure, he doubted that she'd have let it go if Jensen had admitted he had a crush on Jared, but still. Now he would have never known. And then, just when it looked like things couldn't get any worse, Jensen received the invitation.

"You made it," Genevieve squealed, and ran up to him, hugging him tight.

"Of course I did-it's been three months since I've seen you," Jensen pointed out.

"I know, right?" she giggled. "Come on, let me show you around."

Jensen snorted. "It's like you're the one who's been on tour, like you're the one who plays in the NBA," he said. "You're everywhere."

"Well, I gotta stay close to my man," Genevieve stated, shrugging. "These women out there are treacherous. They'd do anything to get to him."

Jensen arched an eyebrow. "Like lying about who they are, for example?" he retorted.

"You have no idea," Genevieve said, pretending she didn't get what Jensen was talking about.

"And this is the master bedroom," she announced, opening the door. "We're thinking about putting the nursery over here, so the baby can be close-"

"Wait, what?" Jensen exclaimed. "Are you pregnant?"

Genevieve giggled again, and God, Jensen was starting to hate that sound. "Of course not, silly, but we do plan on starting a family right away."

Jensen frowned. "Gen, you've known Jared for, like, three seconds, and he barely knows you at all," he protested. "And I know that you want to be a trophy wife and you'd stop at nothing to get to it, but...pregnant? So soon? Just to keep him? I don't know."

"We're in love" Genevieve singsonged. "When you're in love you get married. You start a family."

"This is not love, Gen, wake up, for Christ's sake," Jensen snapped, and Genevieve sighed.

"He changed me, Jensen," she said. "I know it's hard to believe, but he made me want to be a better me."

Jensen huffed. "Gen, this is me you're talking to, remember? I know you, and this act won't work on me."

Genevieve bit her lower lip. "Look, I'll admit it, okay? I went after Jared for all the wrong reasons, but he got inside my heart, somehow."

Jensen studied her face. "You serious?" he inquired suspiciously, and she nodded.

"Can you be happy for me? Please?"

Jensen was torn. On one hand, he really wanted Jared to be happy, and if Genevieve really loved him, then it was the best thing that could happen to both of them. On the other hand, as long as he knew that Genevieve was faking it he could hope that the truth would come out at some point, and maybe then...

"Jensen?" Genevieve's hesitant voice shook him out of his reverie, and he saw her, so small in the middle of the gigantic room, looking at him with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

He pulled her in and hugged her tightly. "Of course I'm happy for you," he said, hiding his face in her hair and inhaling her scent deeply. Hopefully he would manage to forgive himself for that lie, someday.

They resumed the tour of the house, and everything looked just like Genevieve had described it and how Jensen himself had imagined it, when he had let himself. Then, they reached a closed door. "What's that?" Jensen inquired, and Genevieve shrugged.

"No idea," she replied. "It's Jared's personal space and off-limits. I just hope he's not into anything weird, you know."

Jensen arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, I mean it's always the brothers with the secret rooms you gotta worry about, " Genevieve added, and Jensen rolled his eyes.

"I think you're paranoid, Gen."

The party was at its peak when Jared got on the stage and grabbed the microphone, asking for the music to be taken down and for everybody's attention. "First, I want to thank everyone for coming out to help me celebrate being voted to represent the East in the All-Star Game" he started, being promptly interrupted by whistles, cheering and catcalls.

"Five years in a row," Chad shouted.

"I have a lot to be thankful for," Jared went on.

"I have great friends, a great mom and the icing on the cake; thanks to some trouble at a gas station, I'm get to wake up next to the most beautiful human being on the planet."  
Jensen's heart cracked, as Genevieve fidgeted nervously. But Jared was not done yet. "And with so many of my good friends here tonight, I thought what better moment than to ask the woman I love..." He went down on one knee, and Genevieve gasped, covering her mouth with a hand.

"Genevieve Nicole Cortese, will you-"

"Yes. Yes, of course," Genevieve interrupted him, starting to jump on her heels and almost taking the box with the ring out of his hands in her haste to get it on.

"Oh, baby," she murmured, shakily, as Jared stood up and hugged her. She stared at the diamond ring on her finger and mouthed _wow_ at Jensen. "Mom, " she exclaimed, hugging Jared's mother, "we're going to be a family." Jared's mother let out an awkward chuckle and patted Genevieve's back slightly, hoping she'd back off soon. Both her and Jared's friends were frowning, confused by the unexpected news, and when Genevieve threw herself at Jensen, showing him the ring and whispering _see that?_ , Jensen had an even harder time to believe that it was all about love.

"Honestly, man, congratulations," Chad said, slapping Jared's shoulder. "I mean, you did well. She is gorgeous, and-well, she really is gorgeous."

"Thanks, man" Jared replied, weirded out by the lack of any other compliment to his wife-to-be.

"Anyway, I know you want me to be your best man, obviously," Chad continued, but right then, Jared's mother cleared her throat.

"Would you excuse us?" she asked, and Chad was already scrambling up.

"Of course, ma'am" he answered "gotta go check on the rest anyway, make sure no one drinks too much."

"Looks to me like it's everyone else who has to check on you, more likely" Jared retorted, amused, and Chad showed him the finger.

Jared's mother sat next to him on the stairs, and just looked at him. "I know, I know," Jared muttered, and his mother arched an eyebrow.

"What do you know, Jay?"

"I should have told you before," he explained, apologetically, but she shrugged.

"Why? You're a grown man, now," she pointed out. "Grown men do what they want to do. BUt you're still my baby, so I have to ask."

Jared turned towards her, expectantly. "You're sure you're not moving too fast? You've only known her a little while."

He sighed. "She's different, mama," he said.

"Ah," his mother answered, and Jared felt compelled to go on.

"Really. She's very special. You don't need to worry about me."

His mother's gaze shifted, and it looked like she was about to add something else, so Jared grabbed her hand.

"Can you be happy for me? Please?"

His mother smiled at him. "Come here," she said, pulling him into a hug. She couldn't approve of that girl, and she couldn't say she was happy, but she could be there for his son when things turned ugly, and that's all that really mattered.

It was the night of the NBA All-Star Game at the AT&T Center. The stars of stars were right there, in that building: amongst them Dwight Howard, premiere center, and Dwyane Wade, prolific scorer, but the majority of the people in the stadium went to see Jared Padalecki. Five minutes left in the fourth quarter, and the East was up by twelve. If the West wanted to have a shot at it, they had to stop Padalecki, because he had been killing on the court: twenty six points, eight assists, four steals. He had been phenomenal.

It all happened so quickly. Jared got the ball, dribbled a few defenders, off the spin-and then he went down, clutching at his knee, his face a mask of pain.  
He was hurt. The whole stadium stood up, especially Jensen and Genevieve, who grabbed each other's arms and rushed down the steps towards the team's bench.

"He might have hit a wet spot," Jensen murmured to himself. "I don't like the way that knee buckled." Generally, players didn't get up from injuries like those, and it didn't look like this case was going to be any different.

Jared was curled on himself, groaning, as the back of his shirt was drenched in cold sweat. "Is he gonna be all right?" his team mates inquired, as the team doctor tried to get a good look at him, which proved to be impossible since Jared refused to let go of his knee.

"I don't know," the doctor replied, as worried as the rest of them. "I just don't know."

"What's the story, Dr. Speight?" Jared asked as soon as he saw the man entering his hospital room. His mother stood up, her hands clenched in her lap, and Genevieve turned her watery eyes on him.

Dr. Speight took a look at the folder in his hands and sighed. "Well, you suffered a torn posterior cruciate ligament," he explained, "which is one of the four ligaments critical to the stability of the knee."  
Chad paled. "However, with some hard work and a little bit of luck, we might even have you back in action by training camp," the doctor added, trying to soothe the blow, but he got four pairs of wide, shocked eyes instead.

"Training camp? Fuck no, we're in contract negotiations and I gotta have him ready for the Playoffs," Chad protested, and Jared clenched his jaw, looking away. The only thing he had ever wanted was for the team to put their trust in him one more time, for a little bit longer. All he had ever dreamed of was playing for the Spurs until the end of his career; looked like he got his wish, after all.

Dr. Speight took Chad, Genevieve and Jared's mother out of the room, with the excuse of letting Jared rest, but they all knew what was that the man wanted to tell them. "You need to be prepared for the possibility that Jared's NBA career could be over, there's just no way to be certain at this point," he said, in a low, serious tone.

He might have been a joker, but he didn't like giving this kind of bad news to families and friends any more than they liked receiving them.

Genevieve gasped, narrowing her eyes. "His career could be _over_?" she hissed. "You are _not_ serious, are you?"

The doctor sighed. "If rehab doesn't work, there's no way he'll be able to play in the NBA on an unstable knee," he replied.

"That's why he needs to begin rehabilitation immediately, and I mean aggressively," Chad chimed in. “Basketball is Jared's life, and if he really couldn't play anymore his heart would break."

"That's exactly what I was saying," Genevieve retorted, petulantly, ignoring the way Jared's mom was staring at her.

  
  
Jared was barely out of the car, trying to keep himself up on the crutches, when Genevieve moved by his side. "You okay, baby?" she asked, concerned, and Jared offered her a tight, tired smile as Chad told them about the therapist he had hired.

"I hope he's good," Jared grumbled, and Chad chuckled.

"No, it's actually a _she_. Danneel Harris. Dr. Speight said she specializes in sports injuries."

Genevieve glared at him, but Jared's posture relaxed a bit. "Damn, Danneel Harris is the best in the league," he said, in awe. "They even call her _the miracle worker_."

Genevieve huffed, probably already hating the woman, and her mood worsened exponentially when she heard Chad murmuring something like _it's her tits and ass that make miracles, I'm telling you_.

That's when she remembered seeing this Danneel Harris on the cover of a magazine; she did a naked photoshoot for Maxim. "We're not leaving anything to chance, only the best for you, bro," Chad added, wriggling his eyebrows.

Genevieve clenched her teeth. That was so not gonna work. "Actually, I think I have a better idea," she stated, interrupting them resolutely. No hot piece of ass was going to endanger her position in Jared's life.

"Jensen." Genevieve tackled her friend, who appeared in the doorway with his work attire already on. "Thank God you're here," she went on, grabbing Jensen's arm and pulling him inside before he can get a single word in. "If you could have just seen this girl."

"You didn't actually see her either," Jensen objected. "Besides, Danneel Harris is one of the most respected people in this-"

"Oh, if I hear that one more time I swear there will be casualties," Genevieve snapped, interrupting him while she waved her hand dismissively. "Look, some women have gay-dar; well, I've got ho-dar.

 _You don't have a gay-dar, since you never suspected I liked guys until I spelled it out for you, so it might be as well_ Jensen thought, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Genevieve shrugged. "I don't care how respected she is, I just want her far from my man."

Jensen sighed. "Fine, fine! Geez, calm down, will you?" he exclaimed, lifting his arms in a mock surrender gesture. "So what, the job is basically mine?"

Genevieve nodded. "If you want it," she replied. "Chad has already cleared it with the Spurs. Just choose a room."

Then, apparently done with their conversation, she walked towards the couch and that's when Jensen noticed the bag and coat ready next to the door. "Wait, you're not staying?" he inquired, frowning.

Genevieve giggled. ,"Charity event" she replied, which is lucky, ‘cause I really can't take Jared's mum anymore. Be prepared, okay? Woman's a pill."

Jensen stared at Genevieve's hips swaying as she walked away, and couldn't help but shake his head. Nice way to show your support for your injured future husband. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, though, not yet. Maybe Genevieve was simply overwhelmed by the situation.

He fixed his shirt and climbed the stairs, only to find Jared in the living room, hooked on a basketball video game. His injured leg was dropped without care off to the side.  
"Not good," he grumbled, grabbing it and pulling it up, so that it laid on a couple of pillows.

Jared offered him a friendly, warm smile. "Hey, Jen. I didn't even know you were here," he greeted him, and Jensen felt his cheeks burn.

So not the right moment to stare at Jared's dimples. "Having your leg bent like that and not elevated while you're chilling at home is the worst thing you can do for a torn PCL," he lectured him, scowling and trying to get a grip on his control.  
Jared needed him, now, he needed the professional. He needed for Jensen to fix him, and there was nothing Jensen wanted more. "And where is your ice pack, man?" he barked, as Jared blinked, apparently confused by Jensen's harsh tone.

"I-I don't know, I-"

Jensen glared at him. "Listen, Gen told me the job's full-time and live-in. My boss is cool with me taking a leave of absence, so we're good to go, but there's no way, _no_ way we can do this if you're not committed a hundred percent."

Jared opened his mouth to reply, but then his mother suddenly walked in. "Hi," she said, politely, studying Jensen with a critical expression on her face.

"They keep calling from the office, honey, they want to know about that game where you broke all the records," she explained, once she was satisfied with the scrutiny.  
Jared snorted.

"You should know that yourself, mama, you're the president of my fan club," he retorted, and Jensen hid a chuckle behind a fake cough.

"You must be talking about Randolph versus MLK, 1993, right?" he asked as soon as he was sure he wasn't going to do anything embarrassing like laughing in the woman's face. The woman arched an eyebrow, and Jensen's smile grew wider.  
"Sophomore year. Jared scored twenty-three points in the first half, another thirty-two in the second half, eighteen rebounds, ten assists and nine steals, breaking the high school record for double digits in a single game." His eyes were sparkling. Watching Jared play had always been one of his favorite activities, together with _imagining_ Jared sweating for a completely different reason.  
Jared stared at him with his mouth open, and Jensen fidgeted.

"I've been a basketball fan since before I could walk, and I did tell you I've been following your career since when you started" he pointed out.

Jared's mother nodded to herself. "When you finish with him, why don't you come to the fan club?" she suggested. "We could definitely use you."

"Sure thing, ma'am," Jensen replied promptly.

The woman turned, but then stopped, as if something came to mind. "You play Texas hold 'em?" she inquired, and Jensen smirked.

"Neighborhood champ, six years running," he stated, smugly.

Jared's mother crossed her arms, as Jared looked at the exchange, clearly amused.  
"So what are you saying?"

Jensen shrugged. "I'm just saying that, with all due respect, Miss Samantha, you don't want none of this."

The woman blinked, speechless, before turning to Jared. "I like him," she said, before finally leaving the room.

"I might have to teach him a little something something, but I like him too," Jared answered, his gaze soft, and when they both burst into laughter Jensen understood that he was completely, utterly and thoroughly screwed.

"So, when will this knee be working again?" Jared asked, his jaw clenched with the effort of following Jensen's directions.

Jensen loosened his grip on Jared's thigh. "You gotta give it time to heal, Jay," he replied, pulling more firmly, and Jared groaned in pain.

"I've seen you take an elbow from Dwyane Wade and you can't take a little deep tissue?" Jensen mocked him, wriggling his eyebrows, but Jared huffed.

"You never tore your knee," he retorted, petulantly, and Jensen snorted.

"Wow, look at that! Jared Padalecki, two-time legue MVP, guaranteed future Hall of Famer, is a big old baby in real life. Who would have thought?"

"Fuck you," Jared spat, before groaning louder.

Genevieve lifted her eyes on them for a second from where she was reading a magazine, as Jensen patted Jared's knee. "Relax, man, if you don't let me in it won't work," he pointed out, and Jared rolled his eyes.

"I don't believe this," he muttered, but tried to force himself to let his muscles go slack in Jensen's grip.

"There we go," Jensen said. "That should be good. Try to stand now." Jared sat on the cot and then stood: his leg trembled before giving up on him and sending him tumbling on the floor.

Genevieve, who was walking towards him, stopped abruptly. "Baby?"

Jensen rushed by his side. "Here, put your weight on me," he offered, grabbing Jared's arm to help him, but he pulled away.

"I'm alright," he growled, trying to scramble up.  
"Don't be an ass and let me help you," Jensen snapped, grabbing him again with more strength, and suddenly all the fight left Jared, as his shoulders sagged and he let himself being pulled up.

 

"I'm straight," he mumbled, as Jensen gave him his crutches, and even if Jensen knew he was only talking about his physical status, and blatantly lying about it, the comment still stung.

Not Jared's fault though, he didn't know. "Sure you are," it was Jensen's only comment as he followed Jared out of the gym. "These things take time, Jay. You gotta be patient, yeah?" None of them spared a glance for Genevieve, who was still standing there, rooted to the spot.

For the first time in a few weeks, Jensen finally agreed to meet Tom for a drink.  
His friends had been pestering him nonstop, curious about the whole ordeal, and Jensen really needed some fresh air. Besides, Tom was calm, reflective and objective, so he was probably the best person to give Jensen some perspective.

"I can't believe Gen got me into this," he whined. "Sometimes I feel like I'm over my head."

Tom arched an eyebrow. "You got your undergrad in athletic training and you can do PT in your sleep, Jen," he pointed out. "What are you _really_ worried about?"

Jensen cringed inwardly, hating how well his friends knew him. "I have an NBA player's career in my hands, Tom," he tried. "His life and future depend on me!"  
Hey, it _was_ the truth, even if not the whole one. Tom looked like he wanted to add something, but Jensen was faster. "Did you get the books?"

Tom nodded, taking the change of topic for what it was, and pulled a few volumes from his bag. "Everything you asked for, man."

"All right, perfect. Thanks a lot," Jensen said, grabbing them. "Sometimes it pays off having a friend who owns a bookstore.”

Right then, the bell on the top of the bar door dingled, and Genevieve appeared, carrying far too many bags. She was wearing huge sunglasses and a dress that looked like brand new. "Here she comes now, the most beautiful woman in the world, according to herself," Tom mumbled, and Jensen kicked him. Tom had never really liked Genevieve, and didn't miss a single chance to point it out to Jensen.

"Hi guys, sorry I'm late," she chirped, sitting down, then she turned towards Tom. "Hey, Tim," she greeted him, and he rolled his eyes.

"It's _Tom_ , actually, but that's closer you than you’ve got in the last ten years, so. Go you," he replied bitterly.

She just shrugged. "Sorry I'm late," she repeated, ignoring the guy and only talking to Jensen. "The traffic, you know."

"And the shopping," Tom added.

"Anyway, it's so much fun to hang out with you guys," she kept going. "All the talk about muscle conditioning and the human body it's really starting to annoy me. It's like the Discovery channel, but I can't turn it off." Jensen blinked, and so did Tom. Instead of a simple cola, or iced tea they were drinking, Genevieve ordered a glass of champagne. "I couldn't stand another minute in that big house with him doing nothing but- _train_ ," she whined, and Jensen tensed up.

"What's wrong with that, Gen?" he asked, trying not to sound judgmental. "You know he has to, it's a critical time and you should be happy you can be with your man."

Genevieve rolled her eyes. "What's the point in being with my man if he won't hang out?" she retorted.

Tom looked at her. "Didn't he just tear his PCL? What do you expect?"

"He can just have _fun_ ," Genevieve exclaimed, obviously pissed. "I even had to go out and do some-retail therapy, to lose the frustration. I'm sure even Tyler understands."

Tom narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure he does, but I'm still _Tom_ ," he growled.  
"And if that's all you have to say, I think I can take my leave now. I'll call you, Jensen." Before Jensen could stop him, he was up and out. Jensen glared at Genevieve, but she just huffed and ordered more champagne.

"You heard from Gen?" Jared suddenly asked, as they were working in the gym.  
He had been checking his phone more often than usual, that morning, and Jensen did wonder why that was. "I've been trying to reach her all day," Jared explained, and Jensen shrugged.

"Last time I checked, she was shopping," he replied, and Jared made a face, right as Genevieve's voicemail kicked in.

"Oh, baby, it's me," he said, while Jensen put an ice pack on his knee. "Call me."  
Jared sighed, then turned towards the TV, where Mike&Mike where talking about him.

"Is Padalecki still a franchise player?" one of them was inquiring.

"Well, with that kind of injury, the Spurs can't really count on him, can they? The last thing they need to do is pay someone to sit on a bench for half the season" the other one answered.

Jared's face fell.  
"That means you think the Spurs might not re-sign Jared Padalecki at all?"

The other reporter grimaced. "Franchises want to win championships, and I'm sorry, really, but with Padalecki's status, the Suprs can't get rings, not with him as their star player." As the channel showed a video of Jared's fall, a voiceover stated that his days in a Spurs jerseys were over after the current season. Jared clenched his jaw, lowered his gaze and turned off the TV. His breathing was heavy, and he was scratching the back of his head with such frustration that Jensen was afraid he'd hurt himself.

"You okay?" he asked, tentatively, knowing it was a stupid question but unable to find a better thing to say.

Jared nodded, turning away, but that didn't stop Jensen from seeing the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. His heart cracked. Jared was born to be a Spur, and he was not going to make it through if it was taken away from him.

When Jared woke up, it was well into the day. He groaned as a sledgehammer started in his head: getting wasted the night before, which had seemed a great idea at the time, now seemed the worst one he ever had. He looked around, frowning when he didn't see Genevieve in the bed or anywhere around, before his gaze stopped on his bedside table. There, he saw the red velvety box the engagement ring came in and an envelope. He froze on the spot. Surely it was not what he expected for it to be. He sat up and snapped the box open: the ring was there, almost mocking him. In the envelope, there was a small card.

_Jared, baby, I think we need some space. Please, forgive my timing... :) You see, I woke up this morning and realized that I thought I could do this, but I can't. You're just not that guy I fell for anymore; I'm not in love with **Jared Now** , but **Jared Eight Months Ago**. So, I think it's best we end this before we even start. I hope this note is something that you can rise above; deep down you weren't in love with me, you were just in love with love, anyway._

_Genevieve_

The **I** was dotted with a broken heart.

"I knew there was something about that girl," Samantha roared, approaching Jensen as soon as he entered the house. "Coming up in here and pretending to care about my son when all she really cared about was herself." Jensen looked at her, confused, and Samantha narrowed her eyes. "He doesn't need her, and he doesn't need _you_ " she yelled. "Don't think I don't see what you both did, here." She gave him the card and Jensen read it, as his eyes went wide.

"I swear, I had no idea about this!" he protested, hurt by the woman's words.  
Samantha ignored his comment.  
"If you gonna leave too, leave now," she stated, coldly, and Jensen clenched his fists.

"Oh, I am leaving. But I will be back, ma'am, you can count on it." He stomped down the stairs, jumped into his car and drove home; his supposed best friend had some serious explanation to do.

He found Genevieve back in her room, applying makeup as she sang softly to herself. She was wearing diamond earrings that most definitely didn't belong to her and her hair were wrapped around curlers. Looking at her, it seemed like everything was normal, and she didn't just dump her fiancé when he needed her the most.  
"Hi, Jen," she greeted him cheerfully, with a huge smile, and Jensen felt _this_ close to throttling her.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?" he snapped.

"I took a leave of absence from my job to help your man, and dump him like this? You didn't even give me a heads up."

Genevieve pouted. "I'm sorry" she said, sounding anything but.

"How do you think _I_ feel, though? I was really starting to like him."

Jensen blinked. "That's all you have to say? And with _that_ note?"

Genevieve huffed, "It was better that way," she explained. "He would've only tried to change my mind anyway."

Jensen was staring at her, baffled, unable to wrap his head around the fact that she had fooled him, once more. She never changed, not really. She grabbed what she wanted as long as she could, and got off the sinking boat in time to jump on another one. "Why, Gen?" he couldn't help but ask. "Why'd you do it? He didn't deserve it, and you know it."

Genevieve bit her lower lip. "Because I want to be somebody! Okay? And it ain't gonna happen being the wife of some has-been player with some bullshit contract living in some podunk city."

Jensen's jaw dropped. "You can't possibly be this messed up," he murmured.

Genevieve shrugged, and started putting lip gloss on. "You do you and I do me, yeah? Worked out fine for all these years."

And maybe until then it had, but Jensen was done with it. He had accepted being hurt over and over again by Genevieve's antics, he had protected and defended her with his friends, but just imagining how Jared had felt finding that note was making him see red. "I've been watching you _do you_ your whole life, Genevieve. Using people, hurting them and discarding boyfriends like old shoes," he replied, angrily.

"Well, we all can't be Saint Jensen Ackles, now, can we?" Genevieve retorted bitterly.

Jensen narrowed his eyes. "You got problems," he said. "Especially since you're gonna have to pack your bags and be out of my house and my life before I come back."

Genevieve's eyes went wide. "You can't be serious. Come on, Jensen, I-"

"Don't wanna see you ever again," Jensen interrupted them, coldly, before storming out and slamming the door. Jared needed him, and he had lost way too much time with Genevieve.

When Jensen got back to Jared's house, the basketball player was nowhere to be found. Assuming he couldn't have gone real far with that knee, Jensen climbed the stairs to his bedroom, and knocked. "Jay?" he called out. When no answer came from inside, he knocked again. "Jay, can I come in, please? I know we're not really friends, but I really don't want you to be alone right now." Unnerved by the silence, he made his decision. "I'm coming in," he stated, and turned the knob, entering the room.

As he expected, Jared was curled on the bed, still in his loose pajama bottoms, listening to what would have undoubtedly turned out to be an extra angsty emo mix on his iPod. When he saw Jensen, he took off the earbuds, though, so Jensen took it as a small victory.

"For what it's worth, Jay, I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart, man," he added as an afterthought. "Gen didn't even-"

"Is this part of your job?" Jared asked, interrupting him with a hoarse voice that sent a shiver straight down Jensen's spine, right before the words settled in.

"No," Jensen replied, frowning, and Jared shrugged, standing up.

"Then stick to your job, man." And sure, Jensen should have expected as much, but it didn't sting any less.

The following days found Jensen in the exact same position, outside Jared's room, knocking on the door. Sometimes he was bringing food, other times just wanting to offer his unrelenting support. Sometimes Jared opened, but mostly he didn't, and Jensen never barged in again after that first morning. He didn't know how to be around Jared anymore, partly because he didn't know what was allowed and what wasn't, but most of all because his feelings were becoming so strong that he was terrified on acting impulsively, offering some other kind of comfort that would inevitably destroy them and what they had, whatever it was.  
He spent all his free time studying Jared's file, checking for progress, exercises, anything that would help Jensen help him. He could, he knew he could. He was just starting to fear that by the time he had finally found out how, it would be too late.

Then, one morning it was not Jensen knocking on Jared's door.  
"Jared Tristan Padalecki, you better open immediately or so help me God, I will smack your ass so hard you won't be able to sit for a week. We are all worried sick about you, especially me and Chad."

Jared ignored her, too, and his mother sighed. "He called twice today, and I'm done telling him or anyone else that you can't come to the phone and you'll call them later. You never do, and I can't keep on lying to them for you. They're your friends, baby."  
Jensen saw her walking away, her shoulder sagged and a deep, hurt expression on her face. He clenched his fists and decided they gave Jared plenty of time to mope. Now, he had to move on.

He approached the bed and allowed himself a handful of seconds to admire the tan, lean body straining again the white wifebeater Jared was wearing. Even in his sleep, Jared's beautiful face was marred with a frown, and with all his hair in disarray on his pillow he looked like the incarnation of anything Jensen had ever wanted. He took a deep breath and emptied a bucket of cold water and ice on Jared's head.

"What the fuck?" Jared started swearing, but Jensen didn't even let him finish.

"Get up" he ordered "you're coming with me."

Jared glared at him. "What? I'm not going anyw-"

Jensen threw a second bucket on him.

"Son of a-"  
"I said, you're coming with me," Jensen repeated, his expression resolute, and Jared tried to stare him down before he finally accepted defeat and sat up.

"I gotta get dressed," he grumbled, and Jensen left, a secret, satisfied smirk on his face.

Jared glared at him as they left the house. He wore an old grey tracksuit and Jensen was already in the driver seat of his Impala, with his basketball cap in place.  
Only once he sat inside did Jared speak. "No disrespect man, but I really think it's time you get a new ride," he said.

Jensen rolled his eyes. "It just needs a little work done. I didn't have the money or the time to take care of it, but this is a great set of wheels and you know it."

They drove in silence up to the public basketball courts, where kids of all ages were playing, dribbling, jumping and dunking with no finesse but a lot of raw talent and love for the game.

Jared's eyes went wide: it was the court where he learned to play. "How'd you know?" he inquired, and Jensen's expression softened a bit.

"I'm a fan, Jay," he replied, with a small smile, and Jared smiled back before he could stop himself.

"I haven't been here in years," he confessed, "and I should have. This court kept me out of a lot of trouble, you know. I practiced for hours, every day, dreaming that one day..."

He sighed, and didn't continue, so Jensen decided to share something too. "Every time I come around here, I'm just amazed at the talent that some of these kids have," he said.

"Of course, they lack the training and they lack the basics, but, they could be _huge_ , you know, if only they got the chance. And still, no matter how good they are, most of them will never make it to the NBA."

Jared glanced at him, and Jensen nodded.

"But not you, though," he added. "You're blessed, man, you made it. Your dream came true. Don't you see that you owe it to yourself not to waste it?"

Before Jared could reply, one of the kid finally spotted them. "Hey, it's Jared Padalecki!"

All the kids froze on the spot. Then, they turned and rushed forward, with shouts and grins. They were on Jared, some hugged him, some clasped his shoulder. Jared felt a little light-headed. It had been so long since he had last been surrounded by his fans' love, and he hadn't realize how much their support meant to him until now.

"Watch his knee," one of the kid warned at some point, and that's when it started. They pointed and asked worried questions.

"That's the one you hurt, right?"

"How's it doing?"

Jared fidgeted. "I'm trying hard, guys, trying to get back, you know? Basketball's my life. The Spurs are my life."

"Then what are you doing in the hood?" one of the kids asked. "We need you in the league, man."

The light that had always ignited Jared's eyes and Jensen thought had gone forever, suddenly ignited again in his gaze. "I'm coming back, guys," he stated, with a nod. "Just wait for me. Now y'all better show me some real game."

As the kids scattered back on the court, he turned towards Jensen. "You really think you can get me back by the Playoffs?" he asked, seriously, and Jensen stared back with equal seriousness.

"Yeah, I can," he said. "We got up to eight weeks; if you do what I tell you, we can make it, but you're gonna hate me by the time I'm through with you."

Jared's lips twitched. "That's not possible," he murmured, and there was so much gratitude and affection in those few words that Jensen felt his heart swell.

"Is that a smile?" he joked, trying to ease the pressure in his lungs. "Let's go to work, man." He took off towards his car, whistling _Maniac, maniac_ as he went, and Jared couldn't help snorting at that.

"Seven, six, five. Come on, Jay, trust your leg. Trust your leg, push it out.Three, two...give me a hundred percent, don't slack!"

"I'm not, you Nazi. Gimme a break."

"Stand up, man, it's all right. A little bit of pain is to be expected, but you know what? You're working your way back, and Playoffs are coming up. You're doing better today than you were doing a week ago, and better than you were doing a week before that, so every day's a progress. The knee's about healed, now it's time to get it back to work. It's gonna respond, don't worry about it, okay? I'm telling you."

"Jesus, I'm good. Just shut the fuck up!"

"Come on, come on, quick stepping. Quick step, quick step like your feet are on fire."

"I'm gonna set _you_ on fire if you don't let me do my thing," Jared growled.

It was only seven weeks later, but it felt like a lifetime. The Spurs' committee organized a game to check Jared's status. For his part, Jared got back on the Spurs' court for his first real practice, and past the test with flying colors. He ran, he jumped and he dunked like he had never gotten hurt in the first place, under the shocked eyes of the coach, his teammates and Chad himself.

Jensen's eyes showed nothing but pride. "Rock it out, lock it out," he kept shouting. When they were done, he lifted his hand for a high five that Jared was happy to reciprocate.

"That's what I'm talking about, Mr. Padalecki," Jensen exclaimed, and smiled at him.  
"Don't you feel good?"

Jared chuckled, and shook his head affectionately. "Yeah, yeah, I feel good," he replied. "Now let me get some water."

Jensen arched an eyebrow. "Water's for rich people, Jay. Don't tell me you're tired already. I don’t have no water, all I got is guts."

Jared rolled his eyes, but just followed him, as he had done more or less since they had met. And he had to admit that it did feel good. Maybe _too_ good, even.

"You realize how good you are at this, right?"

Jensen cleared his throat, unused to the praise, especially not from a sweaty, smiling, happy Jared.

"It’s nothing,” he replied, vaguely, but Jared stepped closer as he kept jogging and Jensen moved his bike next to him.

"I'm serious, Jen. You do great work."

Jensen waved a hand dismissively. "Well, thanks. It's not often I get to combine my love for basketball with my job."

"Maybe this shouldn't be a one-time thing then," Jared suggested, and Jensen swallowed.

Surely he didn't mean... "What are you talking about?"

Jared smirked. "Just saying that you could work your program full-time, take it to the pro level."

Jensen's eyes went wide. "The NBA?"

Jared shrugged. "Why not?"

Jensen bit his lower lip. "I guess I could see myself hanging around a bunch of hot, sweaty guys," he said, before he could think about it, and when he realized he'd said it out loud he screeched to a halt. Oh, _fuck_. "Wait, I didn't mean-you see, I was just-" he stuttered, but Jared stopped next to him and put a hand on his arm.

"Hey, hey, it's cool, Jensen" he said, his expression open and unguarded. "I'm cool with you being-whatever you want to be."  
A little of Jensen's rage melted away at those words, as he pulled his sweaty hair back, and he even found the strength to offer Jared a tight, forced smile.

"I mean it, man. It's not like I didn't know already," Jared added, and Jensen cringed inwardly.

Of course _she_ told him.

"It wasn’t Gen," Jared said, as if reading his thoughts. "Was my mom, actually." Jensen blinked, surprised, and after a moment they both burst out laughing, as Jensen felt a weight he didn't even know he had carried lift from his chest and Jared decided he needed to make Jensen laugh more often because the man transformed completely when he did.

Jensen caressed the hood of his car as they approached it. "I'm back, baby, did you miss me?" he cooed, and Jared snorted.

"You even _talk_ to it?" he inquired, jokingly.

Jensen glared at him, but there was no real heat in it. "Hey, don't badmouth my Chevy. It was my grandfather's car. He wanted me to have it when he died," he said.

"I'm sure the invention of the first automobile was fascinating back in the day, but-"

"You got jokes, don't you? That's it, you walk,” Jensen interrupted him, with a punch to his arm. "I have a thing for my baby just as it is, especially for her dimple."

Jared arched an eyebrow. "Dimple?"

Jensen blushed furiously, turning away from Jared. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Why did he have to say something about having a thing for _dimples_ , of all things? _Stupid, stupid, **stupid**._ "I mean, the dent in the driver's side door. My grandfather had a dimple on his left cheek, just like my baby," he explained, in the end.

The damage was done, anyway. Jared watched him curiously. "Is that why you never got the door fixed?" he asked, and Jensen nodded.

"Well, I looked into it but every shop said the same thing: to fix the door, you gotta lose the dimple. So I'd rather keep the dimple, sore shoulder and all."

"You must really be into dimples, then," Jared said, in a murmur, and it was probably supposed to be a joke or something, but somehow Jensen found himself staring into the player's hazel eyes, unable to look away. Then a car passed by, honking, and the moment was broken.

"Come on, let's go" Jensen muttered. "We still got a lot of work to do."

"You're not gonna let up 'cause it's Friday?" Jared asked, turning his full puppydog eyes on Jensen.

"Correct, I'm not," Jensen replied, and Jared sighed.

"Worth a try," he grumbled.

"Two more sets," Jensen directed, grabbing Jared's ankles, and Jared crossed his arms on his broad, sweaty, naked chest, and started the exercise.

"What were you like in high school?" Jared asked, curiously, and Jensen shrugged.

"No matter how hard I tried, the thugs and the jocks always seemed to figure out I was different," he said.

"They started calling me Mister Magoo, because of the glasses I used to wear, way thick like headlights, and then the drama started because all the girls always liked having me around them."

Jared nodded to himself, as if figuring out one more piece of the Jensen puzzle, and Jensen let him. Hell, he was wearing his heart on his sleeve already as it was.

"You wanna get something to eat?" Jared suggested as soon as he was done.

"Like what?"

Jared bit his lower lip. "How about cocoa bread?"

Jensen arched an eyebrow. "What? I thought you'd be eating sushi, Mediterranean food, olives and such..."

Jared laughed. "Nah, I'm a Texas boy, man. Steak, dogs and beer make a happy Jared," he replied, with a chuckle.


	3. Third Play: Slam Dunk

  
_A slam dunk is a type of shot that is performed when a player jumps in the air and manually powers the ball downward through the basket with one or both hands over the rim. It's one of the highest percentage shots one can attempt in basketball as well as one of the most crowd-pleasing plays. The phrase **slam dunk** has entered popular usage, meaning **an action with a guaranteed outcome**._   
  


  
  
After dinner (steak and beer, of course) they settled on the couch with a deck of cards and a couple more beers, trading stories as they played lazily. "I wouldn't know my father if he walked right past me," Jared confessed. "Sometimes, during the game, I look into the seats and wonder if he's in one, cheering for me."  
  
Jensen squeezed his knee, but didn't reply. He sneezed, a couple of times, and Jared kept staring at him with intense, searching eyes.  
  
"Something on my face?" he inquired snappily, after a while, terrified of what Jared was seeing.  
  
"You know I gotta ask you, right?"  
  
Jensen froze. "Ask me what?" he replied, hating how weak his voice sounded.  
Jared's expression didn't change.  
He looked soft, relaxed and open. "You haven't been out on a single date since you moved in here with me," he started, in a low, quiet tone. "I haven't seen your cell being blown up or you texting people back and forth either, and no one came knocking and threatening to bust my balls, so. What's up with that?"  
  
Jensen had to swallow around a big ball of lust to answer because holy shit, Jared really did pay attention and that turned him on so fast his head started spinning.  
"I'm single, Jay, nothing's up," he answered, quickly.  
  
Jared frowned. "But how can that be? You're funny, smart, attractive...why?"  
He sounded genuinely interested, so Jensen couldn't be anything but honest with him.  
  
"I just haven't found what I'm looking for," he said, trying to be vague. He hoped Jared would drop it, but of course he was not that lucky.  
  
"And what's that, Jen?"  
  
Jensen licked his lips, looking for the right thing to say that wouldn't expose too much. "The one I can't live without," he admitted, after a long pause.   
  
Before Jared could reply, Jensen sneezed again, and Jared looked worried. "You might be getting down with a cold," he pointed out, but Jensen just shook his head.  
  
"I don't get sick," he stated, dropping a card and winning the hand.  
  


  
  
As fate would have it, the morning after Jensen woke up with the highest fever he ever had. Jared sat next to him on the couch, with a wet cloth he put on his forehead, then changed and replaced when it warmed up. On the table, there was a plate of chicken soup Jared cooked up himself. He didn't tell Jensen he thoroughly burned the pan for it, though.  
  
Jensen's eyelids fluttered, and his sleepy gaze stopped on the plate. "I could have got that," he pointed out, petulantly, and Jared tried to hide a chuckle. Jensen sounded so young and fragile, and he was as menacing as a wet kitten.  
  
"I know, tough guy," he agreed. "But I wanted to take care of you for a change." He grabbed the plate and moved it closer, as he offered a spoonful to Jensen.  
  
Jensen frowned and tried to protest, but as soon as he opened his mouth Jared fed him the spoonful of soup, and despite his resistance Jensen swallowed obediently.  
"That's not bad," he muttered, hoarsely, as he leaned forward for more.  
  
"I got skills," Jared replied, proudly. He smiled at the display and barely stopped himself from telling Jensen how adorable he looked with his hair all over the place and the mark of the pillow on his cheek. His face was whiter than usual, and his freckles stood out like some fairy had sprinkled them all over Jensen as he was asleep. "You probably been taking care of everybody but yourself your whole life," Jared guessed, as an afterthought.  
  
"Not really," Jensen retorted, but Jared knew he was lying.   
  
"Come on, have some more," he suggested, instead of calling him on it. "I need you to get better."  
  
Jensen muttered something Jared didn't understand, before laying down on the couch.  
  
"I'm here if you need anything," Jared told him as he grabbed the TV remote, even though he knew Jensen probably couldn't hear him. Eventually fell asleep as well.  
  


  
  
It was dark outside by the time Jared woke up from his first peaceful sleep in weeks.  
Somehow they had moved, and Jensen had ended up curled against Jared's side, while Jared's arms wrapped around Jensen's torso of their own accord. Jensen smelled good, like soap and sun and _Jensen_ , and all Jared wanted was to lay back down, but he only pulled the covers back on Jensen and brushed his lips on his forehead to check his temperature. The fever had gone down, so Jensen was going to be fine.  
  
"Jay," Jensen sighed, pulling the pillow closer, and Jared's back stiffened.  
Did he imagine it? Could it be? Of course, lots of things would have made sense if-  
Jared swallowed, hard, and stood up slowly, careful not to wake Jensen.  
  
If it was true, if Jensen really...what then? What was Jared supposed to do?  
But most of all, what did he _want_ to do? "The one I can't live without..." he murmured to himself. He had some serious thinking to do. His career on the line; this was so not the moment for a sexual crisis.  
  


  
  
Jensen recovered in a record time. One night later, he stood up and went to the kitchen on his own, looking for a midnight snack. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days.  
Headed back to his room with his loot, he passed by the off-limits room of the house, and that's when he heard the piano.  
  
The door was ajar, and that was all the permission he needed. Inside, there was a John Coltrane poster on the wall, and Jared, sitting at the piano, playing jazz.  
As soon as he saw Jensen, the music stopped abruptly. "Why'd you stop?" Jensen asked as he moved closer, attracted by Jared's music like some siren's song.  
  
Jared shrugged. "I suck, man. It's not something I wanna share with the world."  
  
Jensen blinked. "Whoa, what? No you don't. Who told you that?" he protested.  
  
Jared waved a hand dismissively. "I just started to play this thing again a few months ago," he explained.  
"So, do like you do with basketball," Jensen suggested. "Try the piece again until it's perfect."  
  
Jared chuckled. "Nah, I'm much more comfortable on the court."  
  
"But I want you to play it, Jensen whined, as he sat on the piano stool next to Jared.  
"I'll give you a cookie?"  
  
Jared shook his head, then finally smiled again. "Whatever. You're way too bossy for being so short."  
  
Before Jensen could retaliate, and before he could change his mind, he put his hands on the keys and started playing once more.  
  
"I know this song" Jensen murmured, before he started singing softly along with the notes of Van Hunt's _Mean Sleep_.  
  
When Jared finally stopped, they both laughed, as a warm, tender intimacy settled between them. "We weren't that bad," he said, and Jensen nodded, still laughing.  
  
"Yeah, we could be a lounge act, take this thing to Vegas, if you get bored with the basket ball and decide to go for a disco stick instead."  
  
Jared elbowed him. "What are you doing up this late, anyway? Yesterday you were sick, you need to rest and it's three in the morning."  
  
"I could ask you the same question, mama, you're the one with the game in sixteen hours" Jensen retorted, and Jared sighed.  
  
"What if I get on that floor tomorrow and then it's just like-"  
  
"You won't," Jensen interrupted him. You won't fail, Jay."  
  
"What if I do?" Jared asked again. "What if my knee goes out on me? What if I can't play anymore?"  
  
Jensen grabbed his hand and squeezed, as he tried to convey his support, but Jared clenched his jaw.  
  
"Who would I be without basketball, Jen?"  
  
Jensen smiled, at that. "You'd still be Jared Padalecki. Basketball is what you do, not who you are, man." He rubbed his thumb against Jared's wrist. "No matter what happens tomorrow, you're still a champion," he stated firmly. "You're still an extraordinary human being, and you'll still be Jay. The one who overcome all of this and trusted me with his life."  
  
Jared squeezed his hand back, then his attention moved on the plate Jensen left on the piano. "What's that?"  
  
Jensen smirked. "That right there is my surefire, eyes closed from half-court swish slam dunk cheer up remedy."  
  
Jared chuckled. "You're completely fucked up, man," he said, but Jensen kept grinning.  
  
"It's cheering you up already, don't you see? It's working. Try one."  
  
Jared looked closer. "Marshmallows and chocolate chips? I don't think so," he replied and scrunched up his nose.  
  
"You might like it," Jensen insisted. "Come on."  
  
In the end Jared relented and bit one. The taste surprised him, and his eyes went wide. "Wow," he all but moaned. "This is incredible."  
  
Jensen looked back at him, smugly. "Told you."  
  
"And I _do_ feel better," Jared added, even if he secretly thought that it was more likely Jensen's warmth against his side, and not the cookie. "Let me get another one of those" he asked anyway, just to see Jensen cradle the plate to his chest.  
  
"No, you can't."  
  
"Don't be stingy now, Jen, come on."  
  
"These are mine, you player,"  
  
Somehow, in the mock fight, they ended up so close that when Jared tried to look Jensen in the eyes, he found himself staring at the sprinkle of freckles on his nose.  
Jensen licked his lips, nervously, and Jared found his gaze following the movement hungrily.  
  
Then he felt the shiver. "You better get some rest," Jensen stated, clearing his throat and scrambling up, Jared's eyes on him until he closed the door behind his back.  
  


  
  
It was Game seven of the Eastern Conference finals. The Spurs were up against the Miami Heat, and only one of them was going to leave the AT&T Center as king of the East to go up against the Western Conference champion. Jensen and Samantha were sitting amongst the crowd, proud and excited. All the eyes were on Jared, of course, who was back in the lineup with perfect timing for the Spurs. If they had any chance to make it to the NBA finals for the first time since 2003, it all rested on the shoulders of their star player.  
  
"I called you like five times, man," Wade, a player for the Miami Heat, protested.  
  
Jared offered him an apologetic smile. "I know. I got your messages, man, I'm sorry," he said. "Thanks for yelling at me."  
  
Wade smiled, and clapped Jared on the back. "You'd do the same to me if I was going through the storm" he stated, simply, and Jared nodded.  
  
"I'm good, man. It's all over."  
  
"You better be good, 'cause my game wouldn't be the same if I couldn't take you to the hole," Wade joked, and Jared flipped him off.  
  


  
  
Despite Jensen's words and the fact that there was no pain, Jared couldn't play freely. The memory of his fall was still too fresh in his mind, and he couldn't trust his knee to hold him up properly. Players kept running past him, and he didn’t even attempt to dunk the ball. Jensen fidgeted nervously in his seat, and Samantha's expression was worried. Unless Jared got his confidence back, he was not going to make it.  
  
The coach called a time out, and Jared set on the farthest possible chair, and tried to be as far as possible from his teammates. He’d let them down, and he was ashamed and disappointed in himself.  
  
When Jensen saw him snap at the assistant coach, who only got closer to ask if he was okay, he decided enough was enough. "Be right back," he told Samantha, and marched straight down to the Spurs' bench. As soon as he was right behind Jared, he slapped the back of his head. "Stop playing like a pussy, Jared," he growled.  
"You're afraid the knee is gonna fail you. Well, it won't."  
  
Jared clenched his jaw. "Jensen, I'm all in."  
  
"No. Listen to me, Jared, for fuck's sake!" Jensen exclaimed, as he grabbed Jared’s shoulder and forced him to turn and look. "Anything you _need_ to do, anything you _want_ to do, you _can_ do. I swear to God." He squeezed Jared's arm once more, then released it. "You will _not_ fail, and you know why? Because I know you." He took a step back. "Believe in yourself, Jay," he said, knowing that his eyes were saying everything his voice couldn't. "Believe in _me_."   
  
Jared didn't look up, but his whole stance changed. When the break was over and he stood back, a different man walked out on the court.  
  


  
  
There were only twelve seconds left in the fourth quarter. The Spurs were down by two, 106-104, and Jared had the ball. It had all came down to that last play; neither team had a timeout left or a foul to give, and their hopes where in a three pointer, Jared's specialty. Jared faked a pass on the right, then dribbled on the left, jumped-and the ball went in, just as the referee whistled the end of the game.  
The stadium exploded with loud cheers, as what seemed a doomed game turned into the ticket to the NBA finals.  
His team mates lifted Jared on their shoulders, as Jared's gaze shifted nervously, still in disbelief. Jared had come up with the game of his life: twenty-two points, when no one would have bet a dime on him.  
  
For the first time, Jensen could see a positive in the situation. After an injury like that, it was an accomplishment just to be on the court. And Jared had not only made it back, he had shown everyone the kind of man he really was, and how much fortitude he had. Very few people had expected a comeback at all. _Fuck them_ , Jensen thought, as a crying Samantha threw her arms around his neck and hugged him so tight a couple of ribs cracked.  
  


  
  
The reporters assaulted Jared as soon as he was out of the locker room. "Phenomenal game, man," one of them said, shaking his hand.  
  
"Thanks, Stu, but you know it was a team effort," Jared replied.  
  
The reporter shook his head. "You were in a zone all your own, Jared," he retorted.  
  
"You should have him on your show then," Chad suggested from behind, and Stu piped up.  
  
"Yes. Yes. You gotta come do my show," he exclaimed, excitedly. Jared let Chad to take care of the details. He couldn’t help but smile widely, as he spotted Jensen and his mother walking towards him.  
  
"Son, I'm so proud of you," Samantha murmured, as she hugged him  
  
"Thank you, mama," Jared muttered, against her neck. He was so thankful he was able to make his mama proud after everything he put her through. It was a victory way more important than the game.  
  
"You were great," Jensen said, as soon as Jared had disentangled himself from Samantha, only to be pulled against Jensen's chest. Once they were wrapped around each other, though, none of them wanted to be the one who pulled away, so the hug lasted a tad too long. Samantha cleared her throat, and they snapped apart, both slightly flushed.  
  
"Thank you," Jared said.  
  
"I know it doesn't cut it and there is no way it's ever gonna be enough, but, thank you, man."  
  
Jensen smiled happily.  
  
"Seeing you out there, doing what you do best and owning the stadium is all the thanks I need," he replied, softly.  
  
Samantha stepped in, and Jared blinked. "He deserves a bonus, right?" he joked, and his mother rolled her eyes.  
  
"Of course he does, Jay," she replied, but Jared's attention was already back on Jensen's face.  
  
"How about we go to dinner to some place really nice?" he suggested.  
  
Jensen bit his lower lip as his gaze shifted. "On our own? Jay, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, the reporters-"  
  
"Let me deal with them" Jared interrupted him. "You wanna go?"  
  
Jensen was about to protest some more, but Jared's expression was resolute enough to make it clear he was not going to relent.  
  
"You better be packing something in that wallet," Jensen answered. "I'm not one of those salad-eating chicks you're used to."  
  
They both laughed, and Jensen went to ask Chad to take Samantha back home.  
  
"I like him," Samantha said, and Jared smiled, as his eyes followed Jensen as he made his way through the crowd. "No, Jay," she insisted, and grabbed Jared's arm.  
"I _like_ him. For you."  
  
Jared's eyes went wide. "Mama, you..." He didn't know how finish the sentence, so he didn't even try.  
  
Samantha smiled fondly. "He makes you happy, baby. That's all a mother can hope for her son, and all I care about."  
  


  
  
"I didn't tell you yet, but...you clean up nice, man. Real nice."  
  
Jensen could feel his cheeks burn and hoped with all his might that the car was dark enough for Jared not to notice. "Thank you," he replied, trying to sound anything but as _gone_ as he was. "So do you. Also, I can't believe you got Terence Blanchard to play for us. Wow," he added.  
  
Jared smirked. "I told you, I know people." They got out of the car and walked a few steps towards the porch.  
  
"I had a great time tonight," Jensen said, suddenly, and Jared threw him a side glance.  
  
"Me too. Night's not over yet, though." He grabbed Jensen's arm and pulled him away, towards the sidewalk, where there was a tarp covering what looked like a car.  
  
"What is this?" Jensen asked with a frown.   
  
Jared nudged his shoulder. "Uncover it and you'll see."  
  
Jensen pulled at the cover and, as it fell on the side, it revealed his Chevy Impala, perfectly restored. "No. You didn't," he muttered, as his jaw fell, and Jared grinned smugly. He unlocked it, then offered the keys to Jensen.  
  
"I most certainly did."  
  
The black paint was gleaming under the streetlights, the rims were the original ones, chrome and shiny. On the driver's side, the dimple was still there. Jensen pulled at the handle and the door opened without effort, but then went up.  
  
"Butterfly doors?" he asked, in awe, and Jared nodded.  
  
"It's the only way I could keep the dimple," he explained. "Everything's new, inside: you got a sunroof, so that when you ride out you can let the sun just shine on you. Those freckles you get are adorable."  
  
Jensen's gaze snapped on him, and Jared blushed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. "This is for you" he added, lamely.   
  
Jensen just shook his head. "I don't know what to say, man," he replied, as hope and expectation tangled tightly in his chest.  
  
"Say you'll let me be your first passenger," Jared suggested, and Jensen just beamed at him. He was glowing, and Jared was done fighting it.  
"I'm so happy," Jensen was murmuring "I just can't even-" He couldn't finish.  
Jared had cradled his face in his hands and pulled him in, and when their lips touched for the first time something inside of Jensen rejoiced, as he let himself melt in Jared's arms.  
  


  
  
Jensen woke up the morning after feeling incredibly rested. It had been one of the greatest nights of his life; not only for the sex, even if it had been incredible, but for the connection between him and Jared. The way Jared looked at him, the way he opened up for Jensen with such trust and affection in his eyes that Jensen felt like he couldn't breathe, for a moment; the way they couldn't stop touching and caressing each other with butterfly kisses, until they fell asleep. He was alone in the bed, but he found a tray with homemade waffles, a glass of orange juice and a cup of berries.  
  
 _Be back soon, enjoy!_ Jared had scribbled in his weirdly enticing handwriting.  
  
He couldn't help the fond smile that appeared on his face, just like he couldn't help it when he breathed deep of Jared's smell that was still lingering on the pillows. He felt so much love, it seemed he might explode, but even then there was nothing he'd have changed the feeling for. Just as he was taking the tray down to the kitchen, the doorbell rang. Feeling as giggly as a teenager at his first crush, he opened the door with his most beautiful smile, only to find Genevieve on the other side.  
  
"Hi," she greeted him with the fakest smile of her vast repertoire.  
  
Jensen's expression hardened. "What do you think you're doing here? I thought I told you I didn't want to see you ever again."  
  
Genevieve's smile dimmed a little, but didn't fade completely. "I'm here to talk to Jared," she said. _Not to you_ was the unspoken part. Before Jensen could stop her, she had already let herself in.  
  
"Jared's not here," he stated, and Genevieve shrugged. "It's okay, I'll wait for him."  
She fidgeted for a long moment, then grabbed Jensen's arm.  
  
"I missed you, you know," she murmured.  
  
"I missed you too," Jensen replied, because no matter how skanky she might have been to other people, she had been his best friend forever, the only one who stood beside him when he was alone and had no one to turn to.  
  
She studied him, then nodded to herself. "You have a glow today," she pointed out, and Jensen paled slightly.  
  
He didn't have the time to reply, though, because right then Jared came back from his morning run and froze on the spot when he saw Genevieve standing there.  
  
"Hey baby," she said, immediately assuming the innocent expression. "I know you're probably wondering what I'm doing here..."  
  
Jensen clenched his fists and walked away, to give them some privacy.  
  
Jared knew he was not supposed to let him leave, but there was such a turmoil in his mind and heart that he couldn't think.  
  
"Please, Jay, listen to me. What I have to say is long overdue," she went on. "I am so sorry I left you that note, but I didn't know what to do. I was so confused: my mom died when I was three, and my dad left the day after my fifth birthday. Somehow I knew I'd never see him again."  
  
Jensen, who was listening to the conversation from the other side of the door, lowered his head. _This is so not fair, Gen_ he thought. _You play dirty even if you don't know who you're playing with._ His heart cracked a bit, because he already knew the outcome.  
  
"I was terrified of loving someone completely only to watch them walk out of my life one day. That's why I ran," Genevieve concluded.  
  
Jared shook his head, in disbelief. "I wouldn't have left you, Gen" he replied.  
"I know what it feels like to be abandoned, and I would have never done that to you."  
Jensen bit his lower lip so hard that it drew blood, to stop a couple of traitorous tears from spilling, then he left to go pack his bags, as Genevieve explained how her selfishness and her own fear of commitment had almost completely destroyed Jared's life.  
  
"I went to get help," she said. "Jay, if there's an ounce of something you still feel for me, please give us a chance. I love you, and we're meant to be together."  
  
She stepped closer, as if to kiss him, and she was so beautiful. Jared stepped back.  
"I need time to think," he heard his shaky voice say.  
  
Genevieve, true to her graveling role, nodded and accepted that. "Tell Jensen I said goodbye," she asked before closing the entrance door behind her back, and that's when Jared remembered that fuck, Jensen was there too. He climbed the stairs, and found him in his room, as he hoped. What he didn't expect was to find him packing.  
  
"Where you going?" he asked, and Jensen shrugged.  
  
"Home."  
  
"Why are you leaving, Jen?"  
  
Jensen's back stiffened. "Why don't you tell me why I shouldn’t, " he retorted, and Jared's shoulders sagged.  
  
"Jensen...three months ago, this was the woman that I had planned to spend the rest of my life with" he murmured. "She's gone through a lot to be with me."  
  
Jensen let out a bitter chuckle, and Jared flinched at the sound. "The last thing I ever wanted to was hurt you, you gotta believe me, man," he tried. "You're special to me."  
Jensen flinched.  
  
"I know I'm special to you, Jared. A very special gay friend who, incidentally, has cocksucking lips and takes it like a pro." His tone was cold and self deprecating, but Jared really didn't know how to reply to that, shocked by guilt, fear and confusion.  
Taking his silence as the confirmation he needed, Jensen resumed packing his stuff.  
"That's not enough for me, Jared! Can't you see that? I'm not testing material! I'm a person! With _feelings_!" When Jared still didn't react, Jensen just clenched his jaw and stormed away.  
  


  
  
Once he was in his car, he waited. For over an hour, he waited, and hoped against his common sense that Jared would understand and come after him. Jared didn't. If there were tears streaming down his cheeks as he drove his way back home, well, that was something between his baby and him.  
  


  
  
"Jensen? You here?" His dad's surprised voice was the first familiar sound he heard, and it almost broke him. Luckily, he had the wall to paint to focus on.  
  
Without a reply, the man walked in."You want to talk about it?"  
Jensen shook his head. "I'm fine."  
  
His father didn't say another word. He just grabbed a roller too and started painting right next to Jensen.  
  


  
  
As a physiotherapist, Jensen liked to see his patients get better, but he hated to see them go. What he really didn't miss were his coworkers. "It must feel kind of weird being back here after the last few months you've had, living in a mansion and all that shit with Jared Padalecki, of all people," Mike said, with his usual tact. "It all had to be like kind of surreal, right?"  
  
Jensen sighed. "Well, I don't know. I mean, Jared is-a really good person."  
  
Mike arched an eyebrow, obviously not fooled. "Uh-uh."  
  
Damn his perceptive friends. "Anyway," Jensen interjected, as a change of topic "Working with him helped me realize what I want to do next."  
  
Tom frowned, then looked at Mike. "Did he just say _next_?"  
  
"You leaving again?" Mike inquired.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"If I do leave, I'm gonna leave for good," Jensen explained.  
  
"I want to be an athletic therapist in the NBA."  
  
Tom scratched the back of his head. "I didn't know they had gay trainers in the NBA," he objected, and Jensen shrugged.  
  
"Not that many and not that famous, but they do," he replied. "As long as the players and the owners are okay with it, all is dandy. I think I should at least give it a try, you know?"  
  
Mike grinned. "All I hear is courtside tickets coming my way, right now," he pointed out, cheerfully, and Tom kicked his shin.  
  
"Stop thinking about yourself, you selfish bastard," he grumbled.  
  
"Well, since he already brought it up: you're gonna get us some tickets, right?" he added afterwards, and Jensen laughed.  
  
"You know what? Y'all should be together, y'all deserve each other." Mike and Tom looked at each other dubiously, but Jensen knew it was all a matter of time before it happened. And if anything, he was a patient man.  
  


  
  
Genevieve looked beautiful in another short dress and high heels, with her long brown hair styled up to leave her shoulders bare. Probably not the most appropriate look for a traditional sushi restaurant, but that was Genevieve for you. Jared just walked a step back and saw the way they looked at her; every single guy in the room wished he was Jared, most likely, and all Jared wanted was to be out of there.  
  
"Mister Padalecki, Miss Cortese, Chef Morimoto asked me to take extra special care of you," the maitre said, as he offered them the menu. "Can I start you off with something to drink? I might suggest our Honjozo, if you're into sake."  
  
Genevieve nodded enthusiastically. "That might be nice...but how about your Junmai?"  
  
The man smiled, pleased with her obvious knowledge. "We have a great Daiginjo: melon, honeysuckle fragrance and a rich texture. Superb."  
  
"That's for us then" she replied. The man nodded and left them alone.  
Genevieve beamed at Jared and took his hand. "So, I know this may be premature, considering we just got back together, but I just couldn't help myself," she started.  
  
Jared arched an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" he inquired, feeling uncomfortable.  
  
Genevieve bit her lower lip. "Well, after I shopped at Bergdorf's today, I swung by the Plaza: if we wanted to have our wedding there, a Saturday in September just opened. The fifteenth. Would it be too optimistic to reserve it? Just in case? 'Cause the next opening's not for, like, a year and a half."  
  
Jared stiffened. Wait, _what_? And right then, he felt like he had just taken a step in the right direction. "You're right" he stated, feeling suddenly lighter " _way_ premature."  
  
Genevieve expression went from excited to confused, then pissed.   
  
"Look, you just came back into my life after leaving me right when I needed you the most. So I'm happy you're here, and we could try to work things out, but-"  
  
"Are you in this or not, Jared?" Genevieve snapped. "If you're not really gonna give us a second chance, I deserve to know."  
  
Jared pinched the bridge of his nose to fight the raging headache he could feel mounting right behind his temples. "Gen, after all that's happened I need to take this slow. And I need you to be okay with the possibility that it doesn't work out and we end up just being good friends, because that's all I can guarantee right now."  
Genevieve looked like she wanted to protest some more, but the waiter came by with their sake and they just dropped it.  
  


  
  
Now that he didn't have the rehab to distract himself with, Jared started spending more and more time in his room with his piano, practicing. Jensen had been right: when a play didn't come out as Jared wanted it to, he kept trying until it did, why was piano music any different? So he played and played, losing himself in the music, even if it felt weird without Jensen's warmth against his side or his voice singing it out.  
Suddenly, he could hear heels approaching and saw Genevieve. "Babe, would you mind if I closed the door? You're not that good-yet, and you keep playing the same song."  
  
Jared clenched his jaw. "Sure."   
  
Genevieve smiled. "Thanks, sweetie."  
  
As soon as he was alone, isolated in his room once more, Jared sighed and hid his face in his crossed arms. What was he doing?  
  


  
  
"You have three unheard messages" Jensen's voicemail said, and his heart leapt in his chest. Maybe..?  
  
"Hello, I'm calling for Jensen Ackles. Jensen, this is Aaron Nelson, head athletic trainer for the Phoenix Suns. Jared Padalecki tells me you're the reason for his quick recovery. I could use a pro like you on staff. Can you call me? Look forward to speaking with you."  
  
Jensen blinked, surprised. Jared talked about him? Despite everything that happened between them? He pressed the button to listen to the second message.  
  
"Hey, Jensen. Elton Brand with the Philadelphia 76ers."  
  
"What?" Jensen muttered, as his eyebrows went up.  
  
"Our GM would typically make this kind of call, but I insisted that he let me do it. We need you, Jensen. We want you to be our new trainer. Let's talk about it. Hit me up on my cell."  
  
"You have got to be kidding me," Jensen muttered, in shock, but nothing compared to his reaction when he heard the third message.  
  
"Jensen, this is Tim Walsh with the San Antonio Spurs."  
  
"Oh my fucking God, the _Spurs_!" Jensen exclaimed, as his jaw dropped.  
  
"Listen. Great job with Jared. Incredible job, in fact. We want you to be an assistant athletic trainer with the Spurs organization. Would love to talk with you about it. Give me a call, at my office."  
  
"Oh, my God," Jensen murmured, his eyes wide. Then, he remembered, and all the excitement was sucked out of him. Funny how the thing he used to love the most was suddenly at odds with the thing he was going to love the most for the rest of his life.  
  


  
  
Chad ran up the stairs to Jared's room so fast he tripped twice. "There he is," he exclaimed when he saw him.  
  
"It better be good," Jared muttered, his mood still dark, but Chad beamed.  
"Oh, it's better than good: I just got off the phone with Spurs management. Your new and improved contract it's getting closed. Congratulations, man."  
  
Jared's face lightened. "Really? That's great."  
  
"Yeah, it's a good today, I even got a new client. Jensen," Chad added.  
  
Jared's jaw dropped. "What?"  
  
Chad nodded. "After the work he did with you, he's become a hot commodity. Everyone wants him, and I'm not just talking about work."  
  
Jared blinked, suddenly angry, but Chad ignored him and went on. "Five teams offered him a training position, including the Spurs."  
  
"He's gonna work with the Spurs?" Jared inquired immediately, his anger dissipating in the fleeting hope of more time with Jensen, but Chad made a face.  
  
"No, he turned them down" he said, apologetically. "But he's seriously weighing an offer from the 76ers."  
  
Jared looked crushed, but Chad just cleared his throat. "You wouldn't happen to know which kind of _irreconcilable differences_ Jensen might have with the Spurs?" he asked, and when Jared's gaze shifted he waved a hand dismissively.  
"Only reason I'm asking is that it's weird; I was under the impression that it was his team. You know, _running through his veins_ and such."  
  
Jared swallowed, hard, and didn't reply. He was the biggest moron on the planet.  
Philadelphia was so fucking _far_.  
  


  
  
"All I told them is I would come see their facility and then I will make my decision, mama, there's no need to start fussing already," Jensen said as he packed his books.  
  
"So the prospect of you moving to another town on the other side of the country, not knowing a soul, it's better than staying here and working for the Spurs, those same Spurs that you've loved more than your own mother since before you started walking?"  
Jensen cringed inwardly. "Mama, these things are complicated," he tried to explain, but his mother just shook her head.  
  
"You're running from something, Jensen, and I'm telling you: whatever it is, it's gonna find you no matter where you go."  
  
"I just want to explore my options" Jensen protested, and his mother sighed.  
  
"You fell in love with him, didn't you? Jared Padawhatever?"  
  
"Leave the man alone and let him get out the door" Jensen's father interjected before Jensen could answer the question.  
  
"Besides, any man too blind or too stupid not to realize what he's missing is just-"  
  
"Dad, please, it's alright," Jensen interrupted him, tiredly.  
  
"The person who's _supposed_ to get a guy like that has got him. And I'll get over it, you raised me well." God only knew how long it was going to take, though.  
  


  
  
Jared had finally been invited to Stu's show, and was now sitting in a dark suit, his back stiff and his hair artistically in disarray, feeling as uncomfortable as he could be.  
Genevieve was sitting backstage, with a small monitor to see the interview.  
  
"Our guest today is Jared _Jaybird_ Padalecki, star of the San Antonio Spurs" Stu introduced him. "Some year, Jared: after a career-threatening injury in the middle of the season everybody counted you out, including your own team," Stu went on. "Not even your own doctor thought you'd make it back before the end of the season, but you did, and now the Spurs are the Eastern Conference champions. How in the world did you do it?"  
  
Jared's smile was soft and genuine. "Two words" he replied "Jensen Ackles."   
  
Stu blinked. "That's the physical therapist that helped you out, right?" he inquired, and Jared nodded, his expression grateful and affectionate.  
  
"Oh, he did more than that, Stuart" he explained " _a lot_ more." His gaze shifted, as if he wanted to find the right words. "He saw something in me that I didn't even see in myself; he believed in me so much he practically willed me back to the game. I won't lie to you, it was a lot of hard work, but even when I was in pain and wanted to quit he wouldn't let me. Instead, he made me laugh. He made me play the same song on the piano over and over again, inventing different lyrics every time, and fed me marshmallows and chocolate chips cookies to lift up my spirit."  
  
His gaze was so full of admiration and love that Genevieve gasped, finally realizing what was going on, and felt incredibly stupid for not having seen it before. "Somehow, Jensen turned the worst three months of my life in the best three months of my life, and I never got to tell him that," Jared concluded.  
Jensen was...and she had...Genevieve covered her mouth with a hand. She would have never, ever done any of it if she had known. Jensen was the only person that had always loved her, no matter how fucked up she was or how many mistakes she made.  
  
Jensen was always there with his arms open, ready to forgive her, hug her and lull her to sleep, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear and promising her that everything was going to be okay. Her eyes filled with tears as she imagined how Jensen had felt that morning back at the mansion and decided, then and there, that she was going to fix it. Jensen deserved a man like Jared, way more than Genevieve herself did.  
  
"He sounds special, man," Stuart said, and Jared chuckled, suddenly self-conscious.  
  
"He is," he replied. "I wouldn't be here without him. In fact, I don't think I want to be here without him."  
  
Stuart blinked."What?"  
  
"I'm sorry, man, but there's someplace I need to be," Jared said, suddenly standing up and taking the microphone off before storming out of the studio.  
  


  
  
"Jared, wait," Genevieve called out, running after him as fast as she could on stilettos.  
  
"I'm sorry, babe, this is not gonna work," Jared muttered as he kept walking, but she grabbed his arm.  
  
"No, Jay, I-I know," she said, with a small smile, a real one, more beautiful than any other smile she had ever offered him.  
  
"I understand, and I'm sorry for not seeing it and hurting both of you. He's in Philadelphia, and if I know him as well as I think I know him he went by car. He never liked planes that much."  
  
Jared stared at her, surprised, then nodded. "Thank you, Gen."  
  
She shrugged. "Don't screw up," she answered, and waited, rooted to the same spot, until he was far enough not to see her cry.  
  


  
  
The 76ers gym was unbelievable. Jensen's eyes were so wide by the time they were halfway through it that he started to fear they would pop out of his skull. "And if that's not enough, you'll be able to count on the best practice facility, great coaching staff, me and Andre Iguodala," the coach was saying as he accompanied Jensen to the exit. "So, what do you think?"  
  
Jensen hummed. "Let me have a day or two," he replied, and the man smiled, offering him his hand to shake.  
  
"That's fair. Hope to see you." Jensen left the building with a heavy weight on his chest: everything was phenomenal, but...oh, hell, who was he trying to fool?  
They were great, but they were not the Spurs. And Andre was cool, but-he'd never be Jared. He sighed, and crossed the parking lot towards his car when he saw something that froze him on the spot.  
  
Right in front of his Impala, there was a huge SUV parked across her spot. And up against it, in a dark, crumpled suit, was Jared.  
  
"I wanna talk to you," he said, standing up and moving a couple of steps towards him.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Jensen inquired, going for cold and impersonal and failing spectacularly.  
  
Jared bit his lower lip. "Listen, I know you don't wanna see me, but I need to-"  
  
"You're right, I don't," Jensen interrupted him, hoping the rage would win against the need to just kiss the man senseless.  
  
"Why are you here?" Jared offered him a tentative smile.  
  
"For the same reason I'm willing to leave the Spurs."   
  
Jensen's jaw dropped. "What?"  
  
Jared swallowed. "I'm in love with you, Jen. I know that now."  
  
Jensen narrowed his eyes. "No, Jared. What you know now is that the woman that you were gonna marry is not the woman you thought she was, so here you are, looking for Plan B," he snapped.   
  
"I'm sorry, but that's not enough to jump the bridge and decide you're gay. Well, guess what, man, I won't be a rebound and sure as hell I won't be an experiment, not even for Jared fucking Padalecki."  
  
Jared shook his head. "Jensen, why don't you just listen to me?" he pleaded.  
"You're not my fallback plan, you never were. If anything I fought as hard as I could not to fall in love with you. Don't you realize how hard this will be for me?"  
  
He sighed. "I'm not here because things didn't work out with Genevieve, man. And you can be stubborn all you want, but I know you."  
  
"No, you don't," Jensen protested, weakly, and Jared stepped closer.  
  
"I know you enough to know you love me, Jen. And I know those feelings didn't conveniently fade away 'cause you're mad at me."  
  
Jensen's gaze shifted and Jared curled his fingers around Jensen's wrist. "You have every right to be," he added. "But I'm not leaving these grounds without you. I'm not waking up another morning without being able to look at you next to me."  
  
Jensen's grip was shaky when he grabbed Jared's arm with his free hand.  
"What is it you're looking for, Jared?" he asked, looking Jared straight in the eyes so that he could see the hurt and the uncertainty there.  
  
"A best friend? A cheerleader to be there for you when the chips are down?"  
  
Jared didn't waver. "Just the one I can't live without, Jensen," he answered.  
  
"And if I have to move to Philadelphia or to Cleveland or wherever I got to go, I am."  
  
"Smug, self conceited bastard," Jensen muttered, turning his back to Jared and getting his phone out of his pocket.  
  
"You're kidding me, right?" Jared exclaimed, in disbelief.  
  
"You're gonna make a call while I'm pouring out my heart to you?"  
  
Jensen shrugged, and then the call got connected.  
  
"Tim? Is Jensen Ackles. Is that offer still on the table?"  
  
He turned towards Jared and smiled at the way his face was lightening. "Great. Then you have a new Spurs trainer."  
  
As soon as he had hung up, Jared pulled him in and hugged him tight, as tight as he could, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his jaw and finally his mouth, making these small, needy sounds that tugged at every single string in Jensen's heart.  
  


  
  
Jensen and Genevieve were sitting in the crowd, cheering and suffering with the players. When Jared dunked another three pointers, someone from the back shouted "Jared Padalecki sucks."  
  
"Yes, and he's damn good at it," Jensen yelled, standing up, and it took both Genevieve and Samantha to pull him down again, especially because both of them were laughing so hard they couldn't manage to grip him properly. "My husband will flush your whole squad," Jensen managed to shout before he was forced to sit.  
  
"I didn't know you could still talk trash and work for the team," Genevieve pointed out, and Jensen waved a hand dismissively.  
  
"I'm not talking trash, and you know that. Jared _will_ flush their whole squad."  
"Yeah, but the NBA regulations..."  
  
"Geez, dating a lawyer is really messing up your brain," Jensen retorted, rolling his eyes, but Genevieve's happy sigh was all he could have wished for. Jensen saw Chad approaching, pointing at his watch, before turning an adoring look towards   
Genevieve.  
  
He chuckled. "Speaking of which, I gotta get back to work" he said, patting her shoulder. "Play nice." He highfived Chad on his way towards the bench but spent a moment to look at the way they stared at each other. He would have never bet on them as a couple, but they were working. Chad had enough balls not to fall for her act, so Genevieve had to learn how to be herself. It was wasn’t easy, but Chad was patient and totally smitten, so he gave her all the support she had always needed.  
  
Jensen nodded to himself, as he approached the bench, only to be jumped by a sweaty, bouncy, grinning Jared. "Stay back, Sasquatch, you reek" he protested, jokingly pushing Jared away.  
  
"Why're you the only Spur smiling when you lost by six points?"   
  
Jared smirked and slapped Jensen's ass. "Cause I'm the only Spur that has you."  
Jensen batted his eyelashes.  
  
"Oh, baby, you so sweet," he replied, slapping Jared's ass in retaliation, "but you're not gonna get any of this until you smell like roses and peaches."  
  
"You're no fun," Jared pouted, and Jensen grinned.  
  
"I'll show you fun," he muttered, before grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him down for a kiss. Catcalls, hands clapping and a few more sounds exploded anywhere around them, but Jensen didn't pay any mind to them. When you're married to an NBA basketball star, you learn to deal with the little setbacks.  
  


**END OF THE GAME**

  
  


  
  


**Bonus art: SOUNDTRACK**

  
  


  
  


Download mix at [](http://onceuponarhi.livejournal.com/profile)[onceuponarhi](http://onceuponarhi.livejournal.com/)'s [ART MASTERPOST](http://inkruns.livejournal.com/217097.html)

  
  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Not Coming Down From:**  [bed](http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Bed)  
>  **Clawed Chained Heart:** cheerful  
>  **Under The Spell Of:**  Every Shot Counts fanmix


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